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GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 



. W IT H 

THE IRON HAND. 

A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS. 
FROm'tHE GERMAN 
O F 



^^^GpETHE. 



Das Ungliick ist geschelin — das Herz des Volks ist in den 
Koth getretenj und keiner edeln Begierde mehr fahig! 

USONG. 



PHILADELPHIA : 
CAREY, LEA & BLANCH ARD. 

1837. 



Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1837, by 
Carey, Lea & Blaxchard, in the Clerk's Office of the Eastern District 
of Pennsylvania. 



J //J 



LC Control Number 




tinp96 031596 



K. C . l)t>i;si:V, I'K INTER 
I. I i; R \ K \ .s T R E K T . 



PREFACE. 



The first publication by which Giithe attracted 
general attention, was his drama of Gbtz von Ber- 
lichingen with the Iron HcmcL It appeared in 1775, 
and having had considerable success, was soon fol- 
lowed by the well known Sorrows of Werther. 

The scenes of this Drama are laid in different 
parts of Germany a short time before the death of 
the Emperor Maximilian I. and some years after the 
promulgation of the famous Edict of the Diet at 
Worms, which took away from the Barons of the 
Empire the right which they had before possessed of 
making private w^ars upon each other. This right 
had early given rise to a regular system of freeboot- 
ing. A large proportion of the knights and lesser 
barons were too poor to keep up their feodal state, 
without predatory incursions into the domains of 
their richer neighbours^ and in order to accomplish 



iv 



PREFACE. 



tilis with impunity, they formed leagues among them- 
selves, — which were ostensibly for the purpose of 
mutual assistance in their private wars, but which 
were in fact nothing else than agreements to plunder 
in company and divide the spoil. The possessions 
of the wealthy nobles, the endowments of the clergy, 
and the commerce of the free towns, then rapidly 
extending itself, oifered a tempting prey to these 
needy marauders; whose boldness and rapacity, as 
their numbers increased, rose to such a pitch that 
they could only be held in check by a defensive 
league between the ecclesiastic and secular Princes 
of the Empire, and the higher Nobility, with whom 
were associated some of the knidits and lesser barons 
who had good estates, and who consequently required 
protection against their own order. The constant 
struggle between these contending parties filled the 
whole country with violence and bloodshed. The 
authority of the Emperors had long been a mere 
shadow — there was no civil power to protect the 
weak — the sword was the only efficient arbiter of 
disputes, and by the sword they were always deter- 
mined. In such a state of things, as may be sup- 
posed, the condition of the Peasantry was miserable 
in the extreme. Their rights, if indeed they could 



PREFACE. 



be said to have any, were not regarded — they suffer- 
ed on all sides, and were plundered and murdered 
indiscriminately by the licentious soldiery of both 
parties. The atrocious cruelties which they w^ere 
thus compelled to endure, often excited them to open 
rebellion; but as the nobles generally made common 
cause against them, and as their movements were ill 
contrived and without sufficient concert, they were 
easily overpowered, and their natural efforts to pro- 
tect themselves from outrage, visited with the sever- 
est punishment. 

There were, however, a few of the nobles who kept 
aloof from all leagues; who, being strong enough to 
defend their own castles and possessions, would not 
unite themselves with any association which required 
them to relinquish their individual independence, 
or acknowledge another superior beside the Emperor. 
They therefore made enemies of both parties. The 
higher nobility considered their independence a mere 
pretence to conceal their connexion with the free- 
booting barons; while these, on the other hand, view- 
ed their opposition to their League as an open decla- 
ration of hostility, and assaulted and pillaged them 
whenever an opportunity presented itself. 

To put an end to this scene of anarchy and rapine, 
1# 



vi 



PREFACE. 



the Edict of Maximilian I. was framed and issued 
from the Diet held at Worms in 1495 — all the 
princes, prelates, and barons who were present at 
that Diet swearing solemnly to enforce with the 
whole of their power the penalty of the Edict against 
those who should be daring enough to violate its 
provisions. This penalty v/as no less than the Ban 
of the Empire, — which at once excommunicated and 
outlawed the offender, making him a public enemy, 
and setting a price upon his head. The free towns, 
the clergy and the wealthy nobles had of course good 
reason to uphold this measure; but the League of the 
knights and lesser barons, whose existence depended 
upon their right to make private war, determined, 
dangerous as it might be, not to yield up that right 
without a struggle. The few independent barons 
who have been mentioned, although they were con- 
nected with neither party at the time the Edict was 
published, nevertheless viewed the abrogation of an 
ancient privilege at the instance of the higher nobili- 
ty with the utmost jealousy and discontent. They 
suspected that the Edict was aimed quite as much at 
their own importance and independence, as at the 
violent practices of their marauding brethren; — to 
whom under this impression they at last united them- 



PREFACE. 



vii 



selves in what they believed to be a just contest for 
their unalienable rights." 

These independent barons were an important ac- 
cession to the male contents^ — for without being of 
high rank, some of them possessed great influence, 
and even enjoyed the personal favour of the Emperor 
himself, who, notwithstanding their open opposition 
to his authority, discriminated them from the rest of 
their party, and in one or two instances interfered to 
shield them from the consequences of their own dis- 
obedience. It therefore became a difficult matter to 
enforce submission to the Edict, as had been solemnly 
determined upon; the resistance in all quarters was 
obstinate and well conducted, and the country con- 
tinued to be as much agitated as ever. At the first 
the Imperial forces co-operated zealously with those 
of the Princes and the higher Nobility whenever oc- 
casion required; but the designs of Louis XII. of 
France upon the Dutchy of Milan, and the repeated 
irruptions of the Turks into Maximilian's hereditary 
dominions, before long occupied him so seriously, 
that he was obliged to leave the internal peace of the 
Empire entirely to the care of those who were most 
interested in the preservation of it. The Princes 
and their allies being thus thrown upon their own 



viii 



PREFACE. 



resources, returned naturally to their original league 
for mutual defence; but having now the authority of 
an Imperial Edict for their measures, backed by the 
formidable penalty of the Ban of the Empire, they 
pursued them with greater energy than before, and 
with o;reater success. The state of thino-s was otsl- 
dually ameliorated — other causes assisted to produce 
a favourable change, and at the time which Gcithe 
has chosen for the scenes of his Drama, it would ap- 
pear, that but few of the factious knights and barons 
of any note were left, who ventured to exercise the 
forbidden right of making private war, besides the 
hero of it, Gotz von Berlichingen, and some of his 
immediate friends and associates. He in fact flour- 
ished at a later period than this; though he was 
always, as Gothe represents him, a fearless and honest 
cliampion for the privileges of his order. His pro- 
tection of the Peasantry around him, and the un- 
bounded popularity which he enjoyed among them, 
as well as his frequent acts of violence, had made 
him peculiarly obnoxious to the princes and nobles 
who still remained confederated for the purpose of 
enforcing Maximilian's Edict; but he was powerfully 
connected, and his friends openly countenanced and 
defended him in the different Diets, so that all efforts 



PREFACE. 



ix 



to procure his overthrow proved unsuccessful, until 
his own rashness in implicating himself in a sangui- 
nary and dangerous revolt of the peasantry of Suabia 
and Franconia in 1525, (generally known by the 
name of the Feasants'^ War) furnished his enemies 
with the means of partially accomplishing their de- 
signs. He was imprisoned for a considerable time, 
and afterwards released, though in the Drama he is 
represented as dying in prison. Its incidents are 
principally confined to the various intrigues set on 
foot against him, and with some exceptions are of a 
very simple character. 

In 1799, the late Sir Walter Scott published a 
translation of this Drama of Giithe, which has lately 
been republished in a new edition of his poetical 
works. * Those of his biographers who have spoken 
of this translation, seem disposed to admit that it 
was executed with too much haste, and even with- 
out a sufficient knowledge of the German itself, 
which they say he had studied but a very short time. 
One among them, however, after a long dissertation 
upon the general character of Gothe's writings, fol- 

* The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, Bart. vol. xii. 
Edinburgh, 1834. 



X 



PREFACE. 







lowed by a critical analysis of the Drama of G'otz 
von Berlichingen, comes roundly to the conclusion 
that Scott overlooked its peculiar beauties and "de- 
licate traits of character to a degree absolutely ludi- 
crous," and "with a crude unripened taste for fantas- 
tic horrors," perceived only '^its secondary merits." 
This is strong language to apply even to a juvenile 
effort of the author of Waverly; but as this writer's 
observations upon the original Drama will presently 
be compared with Gothe's own account of it, his 
opinion of the translation may be left without com- 
ment. 

Like other men of great genius who have given 
their thoughts to the world, Gothe has been pursued 
by a host of indiscriminate admirers and copious 
commentators, who have exerted their fancies to 
point out beauties in every line, and tortured the 
sense to discover a meaning where, perhaps, the Poet 
intended none. Dante was scarcely in his grave 
before the citizens of Florence (who had both perse- 
cuted and banished him) determined to establish a 
public professorship, for the purpose of expounding 
and illustrating his "divine poem," the obscurity of 
■which had already made it a fruitful source of con- 
troversy. No less a person than Boccaccio was 



PREFACE. 



xi 



chosen to occupy the chair of this new professorship, 
and he devoted himself with so much ardour to ''the 
flattering task" as completely to undermine his health 
— death interrupting his labours before he had pro- 
ceeded more than half way through the hrferno. His 
comments, however, w^ere carefully collected,* and 
served as a rare addition of materials for the lucu- 
brations of after commentators, who have not failed 
to avail themselves of them. About the same time 
Pietro, the eldest son of Dante himself, was occupied 
with the same subject, and before long produced his 
commentary on his father's poem,t which, consider- 
ing the opportunity he may be supposed to have had 
of access to the original manuscripts, should assured- 
ly have shed more light upon his father's meaning. 
These were but the pioneers. On the revival of let- 
ters, after the invention of the art of printing, the 
mysteries of Dante became a favourite subject with 
writers of all classes and pretensions, who emulated 
each other in the extent and subtilty of their disqui- 

* Under the title of Chiose del Boccaccio sopra alcuni luoghi 
di Dante. 

t Comento inedito, che ha per titolo — Petri Dantis Alig- 
herii, Florentini clarissimi Legum Doctoris Comvientarium in 
djivimtm Opus genetoris sui Da/iitis. 



I'REl ACE. 



sitions. Their example has been eagerly followed 
ill more modern times, and we have now before us 
the annotations and theories of Lombardi, Venturi, 
Bottari, Abeken, Uhde, Gozzi, Rosetti, Biagioli, and 
a multitude of others of inferior name — all affecting 
to disclose beauties and unravel difficulties overlook- 
ed by their predecessors. The result of these pre- 
posterous labours may be well illustrated by the con- 
temporary declarations of two eminent men, them- 
selves commentators upon Dante, one of whom ra- 
ther boldly asserts — ''In the study of Dante I have 
perceived little need of any commentary whatever; 
for the passages which are said to be the most unin- 
telligible, and concerning which there has been the 
most dispute, appear to me to have no other obscu- 
rity than that which is inseparable from a Poem writ- 
ten several centuries since, designed for a particular 
purpose, and every where filled with local allusions" 
— while the other " mournfully confesses — *'I disco- 
ver in Dante an immense mystery, of v/hich, alas, I 
fear that I shall never obtain the key!" 

The commentators of Gothe have pursued the same 
course with regard to his writings, and with nearly 
the same success. Upon the appeaiance of Uic 

* G ravin a, 



PREFACE. 



Xlll 



TVahlverwandschaften and Wilhehn Meister, they 
regularly commenced their critical illustrations^ 
which with persevering industry they have conti- 
nued to the present time. It is true that their author 
has not failed to supply them with new subjects for 
conjecture and disputation — like Dante, he deals in 
ineffable mysteries, and like him too, with the aid of 
his zealous commentators, he has been enveloped in 
majestic and impenetrable obscurity. The majority 
of the German critics are of opinion that the lustre 
of all Gcithe's other efforts is eclipsed by the trans- 
cendent merits of his Faust, They call it a pro- 
found philosophic poem,* of the grandest character, 
which must long remain unrivalled, being the pro- 
duction of a man of wonderful genius, in the very 
department for which he seemed born. And yet no 
two of these critics can agree upon the meaning of 
any one of its scenes, and the question as to the real 
design of the work, has excited a discussion among 
them, which still divides their world of letters, and 
even embitters it with personal animosities. A. W. 
Schlegel attempted to compose the difficulty by main- 

* In Miss Austin's Characteristics of Gdthe, Faust is called 
'^a philosophico-religious didactic drama.^^ 
2 



XIV 



PREFACE. 







taining that Faust was but a fragment, and that any 
judgment with regard to its bearing and purpose, 
before the author had entirely completed it, must 
necessarily be premature. But now that the world 
has been presented with the long expected second 
part of "the eternal Faust, '^'^ a new and even more 
knotty question has been started to bewilder the un- 
learned admirers of German literature; and a strong 
array of argument is produced to prove that the se- 
cond part of Faust is not a continuation of the first 
— but in fact another Poem, of a different character, 
and with a different aim — having- nothing; in common 
with its predecessor but "the memorable name!" 
And who is to decide the matter, or guide the per- 
plexed inquirer "upon an ocean of discussion so 
truly dark, and at the same time so illimitable?" 

Gotz von Berli chin gen, as already stated, was 
Gothe's first publication, and written long before he 
commenced this poetic mysticism.* The comparative 

* Gothe informs us in Lis Memoirs, that the idea of the 
first part of Faust was conceived at the same time with that 
of Gbtz von Berli citing en; but it was not written or published 
until long afterwards. The second part of Faust was finish- 
ed in the summer of 1831, only a few months (or according to 
some, a few weeks) before his death. 



PREFACE. - XV 

simplicity of its construction and style could there- 
fore yield his commentators little occasion for tlieir 
customary dissertations upon the hidden meaning of 
particular passages. But as they seem to think it im- 
possible that Gothe should have written any thing 
with the mere object of exhibiting human character 
and human feeling, they have accordingly attempted 
to raise this Drama to their favourite philosophic 
level by a great deal of declamation as to the extra- 
ordinary nature of its general merits, which some of 
them would certainly place before those of any dra- 
matic production, either of ancient or of modern 
times. A brief extract shall be made from two of 
the most moderate of these writers, for the purpose 
of comparing their observations with Gothe's own 
account of his Drama (before alluded to) taken from 
his curious Memoirs of his own life, in which, as far 
as he goes, he speaks of himself and his writings 
with remarkable sincerity. The first extract is from 
the well known Dramatic Lectures of A. W. 
Schlegel: 

"Gothe in his Gotz von Berlichingen entered his 
protest against the arbitrary rules by which the 
Drama had hitherto been fettered. It v/as not 
written in imitation of Shakspeare, but rather in that 







XVI PREFACE. 

generous emulation which may be excited in a man 
of genius on reading the v^^orks of a kindred spirit. 
In the dialogue he even went beyond Lessing's ideas 
of natural freedom, and violated received opinions 
more than any one had ventured to do before him. 
He made use of no poetical circumlocution whatever 
— the exhibition was to be the very thing itself, and 
he brought before us the tone of a remote age in a 
manner carrying with it a wonderful degree of illu- 
sion. The situations of the Drama portrayed with 
a few master strokes are irresistibly powerful — he 
has painted in moving colours the true, old German 
simplicity — he conveys a great historical meaning, 
and exhibits the struggle of a century about to pass 
avv^ay, with a century about to begin."* 

The next extract is from the author whose opinion 
of Sir Walter Scott's translation of Gotz von Ber- 
lichingeii has already been quoted: 

*'Gotz von Berlichingen (is) the central figure (of 
the Drama) the point to which all other parts of the 
picture bear a reference, the hero who gives unity to 
the whole. * * * * The other characters of the 
play, aiding in the developement of the story (plot 

* Vorlcsungcn uhcr drainalischc Kunst und Liltcraiur — 
15 te Vorlcsunf^. Heidelberg, 1817. 



PREFACE. 



xvii 



properly speaking there is none) are struck out in 
brief indications, with a bold yet discriminating 
pencil. * * * * The element in which they 
move is a dramas such a drama as Shakspeare would 
have made of the subject, requiring the w^orld for a 
stage, and years for its time of action. The scene 
shifts, the characters enter, utter a few simple words, 
which suggest, however, boundless wealth of thought, 
and walk off again. Some of these scenes contain 
merely a few speeches of a few words each, and no 
care is taken by the author to hint at the nature of 
their connexion. Yet w^e feel that they are organic 
parts of a mighty whole — we rise from the perusal 
of the drama with an intimate knowledge of the a»:e 
into which we have wandered. With like unappa- 
rent eftbrt, the moral beauties of that age are made 
to stand out from its sombre background, each in 
simple reliance upon its own worth, enhancing, not 
rivalling, the value of its fellows. This splendid 
edifice is reared upon a deep study of society and 
human character, but the philosopher no where ob- 
trudes himself. Every thing is characteristic, every 
thing is in keeping;— but if we feel this, it is upon 
after reflection; we are too much engrossed with 
what is passing before our eyes, too much impressed 
2^^ 



XVlll 



PREFACE. 



with a transitory belief in its reality, to have time 
for such reflections. * 

Before giving Gcithe's account of so extraordinary 
a Drama, a few words as to his studies and habits at 
the time he wrote it must be here introduced. He 
informs us that on his return from Strasburg, where 
his father had sent him to finish a course of Juris- 
prudence commenced at Leipsic, "the multiplicity 
of his tastes, passions and pursuits" had completely 
divided his attention and made him averse to any 
regular, systematic occupation. He had at neither 
place, as may be supposed, paid much attention to 
his legal studies, but had occupied himself princi- 
pally with general science and literature, wandering 
from one subject to another as his caprice suggested, 
without acquiring a practical knowledge of any. 
«'My attainments of every kind," he says, "were 
entirely devoid of connexion and system." Before 
he went to Strasburg he had learned to speak French 
— he had studied Italian, Latin, Greek, and Hebrew 
a little — and possessed as much knowledge of Eng- 
lish as he could obtain from the instructions of a 

* Life of Sir Walter Scott, with critical notices of his 
writings — by George Allan, Esq. Chap. III. 



PREFACE. 



XIX 



master, who undertook to teach him that language in 
the space of four weeks. He had also begun to exer- 
cise his talent for Poetry, in a number of detached 
pieces, on various subjects, and had made several 
attempts at dramatic composition, two of which have 
been published in the late editions of his works.* 
A short time after his arrival in Strasburg, he ac- 
cidentally became acquainted with Herder, who was 
then employed as the travelling tutor of the Prince 
of Holstein-Oldenburg. This acquaintance, his biog- 
raphers say, formed an era in his life; and he tells 
us himself that he derived the greatest benefit from 
his familiar intercourse with that profound scholar, 
whose advice had an important influence in the 
direction of his future pursuits. Being dissatisfied 
with all his juvenile productions, many of which he 
had burnt, and ''stimulated with the hope of produ- 
cing some original and remarkable work," he was 
anxiously endeavoring to fix upon a suitable subject 
for a new effort at composition by which he might 
gratify what he calls "his daily and nightly desire." 
He had read Shakspeare's historical plays with 

"^Die Laune des Verliehten and Die Mitschuldigen; — they are 
to be found in Cotta's complete edition of Gothe's works, pub- 
lished under his own direction — Vol. vii. — 1828. 



XX 



PREFACE. 



enthusiastic admiration, and about the same time 
accidentally meeting with the original autobiography 
of Gotz von Berlichingen, published at Nurenberg 
in 1731, the question in some cases so difficult to 
decide, was speedily settled, and he determined to 
write a Drama, after the manner of *'the immortal 
English poet." He however carefully concealed this 
determination from Herder, of whose critical obser- 
vations he had the greatest dread ^ and indeed he 
seems to have spoken of it to no one, until his return 
to Frankfurt, when he confided it to his sister Cor- 
nelia, to whom he was tenderly attached, and whom 
he was in the habit of consultino; with re^-ard to all 
his literary efforts. But although she approved of 
his design, and encouraged him to begin, and al' 
though he had already acquired the preparatory 
knowledge necessary for his undertaking, by consult- 
ing several authors who wrote of the manners and 
customs of the age in which his future hero lived, 
and by reading with particular attention Datt's trea- 
tise Be Pace piiblica* — still the Drama made no 

*The assertion of the learned A. W. Schlegel, that the 
Drama of Gutz von Berlicliingen "conveys a great historical 
meaning," has already been quoted. Many other critics of 
note have also pronounced it to be strictly an historical Dra- 



PREFACE. 



xxi 



progress^ he reflected and talked a great deal about 
it, he says, but wrote nothing— -for in addition to his 

ma^ and from the care which Gothe has taken to inform us 
what authors he consulted before he began his labours upon it, 
he would seem himself desirous of giving it the same 
character. And yet, throughout the whole of it, promi- 
nent circumstances and events are confused and transposed 
without the slightest regard to their actual order and 
existence. Honest Gotz himself is made to flourish in 
the reign of Maximilian I., although in fact his day 
was hardly commenced when Charles V. obtained pos- 
session of the Imperial throne upon the death of Maxi- 
milian in 1519 — for without reaching an advanced age, Ber- 
lichingen survived Charles V., and died in 1562. The great 
revolt of the peasantry of Suabia and Franconia, in which 
Berlichingen really was implicated, broke out in 1525 — but 
Gothe makes it occur before the catastrophe of his Drama in 
1519. The power of the Westphalian, or secret trilnmals^ was 
shaken as early as 1461, by a league of a number of the Ger- 
man Princes, avowedly formed for the purpose of resisting 
so fearful a tyranny — which, followed up by the measures of 
Maximilian L, who exerted himself to the utmost in order 
to overthrow them, put such a check upon their authority, 
that at the period of his death they rarely ventured to assert 
their jurisdiction even of those criminal offences, over which 
it had formerly been exclusive, — the Drama, however, repre- 
sents their condition as directly the reverse. There are a 
number of other oversights and mistakes of a minor charac- 



xxu 



PREFACE. 



desultory habits of thought and study, there was 
another cause which indisposed him to any regular 

ter, some of which must have proceeded entirely from care- 
lessness — one instance will suffice. The Archduke Carl, 
(afterwards Charles V.) is made to figure behind the scenes 
as the paramour of the beautiful Lady Adelheid; but the pe- 
riod at which Gothe has chosen to introduce him in Germany, 
is precisely that of his celebrated voyage from the Nether- 
lands to his newly inherited government of Spain, where the 
distracted state of affairs which followed the sudden death of 
the Cardinal Ximines must have given him too much occu- 
pation to allow even of a flying visit to the court of his grand- 
father, the Emperor Maximilian: and, indeed, according to 
the most authentic accounts, he never was in Germany at all 
until he went to Aix-la-Chapelle in order to assume the crown 
of Charlemagne in 1520. — In thus pointing out, however, the 
constant neglect of historic truth in Gdtz von Bcrlicliingen^ 
there is no intention whatever to detract from its great merits 
as a Drama. Gothe had an illustrious example to sanction his 
course — nay, his work perhaps would have been more enter- 
taining had he chosen to exclude History from it altogether. 
But when we are told with an imposing air of authority, that 
"we rise from the perusal of this drama with an intimate 
knowledge of the age into which Ave have wandered," we 
naturally are led to inquire what age it is, which has been so 
accurately brought before us; and in a "splendid edifice reared 
upon a deep study of society and human character," we have 
a right to expect a proportion and symmetry for which we 



PREFACE. 



xxiii 



mental exertion. He was early entangled in love 
affairs. Before he was sixteen, he had formed a 
romantic attachment to a pretty, though it would 
seem a very discreet young girl of Frankfurt, who 
pursued the humble occupation of a milliner. He 
gives a particular account of all his interviews with 
her, and speaks mysteriously of some criminal con- 
duct on the part of her friends in which he was igno- 
rantly implicated. This circumstance, however, did 
not change his feelings towards her, and when their 
clandestine intercourse was suddenly broken olFby 
the interference of the police, it cost him a long and 
dangerous lit of illness. At Leipsic he was again 
ensnared by the beauty of his landlady's daughter, 
whose affections, he says, he gained without any diffi- 
culty, although he confesses that he afterwards lost 
them by his own cruel treatment of her; and for the 
third time, at Strasburg his ''too susceptible heart" 
w^as captivated by the charms of another willing 
maiden, the daughter of a poor Protestant clergyman 
who resided at a short distance from the town. In 
none of these affairs, but particularly in the last, did 
Gothe seem disposed to address any dishonourable 

would not look even in the master pieces of uncultivated 
genius. 



XXIV 



PREFACE. 



solicitations to his mistresses; although he constantly 
bore in mind the great superiority of his own rank, 
and never for a moment cherished the idea of his 
connexion with either of them being a permanent 
one. And yet he describes his grief on parting with 
Frederica, the clergyman's daughter, when he left 
Strasburg to return home to Frankfurt after he had 
taken his first degree, as of the most poignant cha- 
racter. His love was so great, and the distance 
betw^een the two towns was comparatively so small, 
that, notwithstanding the disparity of their situations 
in life, he mio-ht certainlv have ventured to look for- 
w^ard to another meeting. But he hoped for nothing 
of the kind, and took leave of his '*adored Frederica'^ 
as he thought forever. She was of course compelled 
to view their separation in the same lights and ac- 
cordino;ly sent a lono; fare^vell letter after him to 
Frankfurt, which increased his melancholy feeIino;s 
to such a deo;ree, that he commenced wandenn;>: 
about the country in the usual mood of a disappoint- 
ed lover. In these wanderings, however, he found 
an employment which could hardly liave been fore- 
seen: *'Man must live," says he, '^and I therefore 
induced myself to take an interest in the concerns 
of other lovers. I endeavoured to accommodate all 



PREFACE. 



XXV 



their difficulties, and when I found any who had 
quarrelled and were about to separate, I exerted 
myself to bring them together again — being unwil- 
ling; that others should suffer as I had suffered. I 
was, on this account, well known through the coun- 
try by the name of the Conjidant,'^' But, whatever 
interest or relief he may have found in these pro- 
ceedings, his sister Cornelia thought them alto- 
gether unsuitable for a young student who had taken 
his first degree in the Law, and who, moreover, was 
meditating an historical drama in the style of Shak- 
speare. She, therefore, took him severely to task on 
the subject, and urged him to apply himself serious- 
ly to the composition of G'otz von Berlichingen, of 
which he had talked so much, without performing 
any thing. The story may now be left to his own 
words: 

''Excited by her remarks, I began one morning 
to write, without having sketched any plan or de- 
sign beforehand. I finished the first scenes, which 
in the evening I read to Cornelia. vShe praised 
them very much, with some qualification, however, 
since she doubted whether I would go on as well as 
I had begun — nay, she openly expressed her want of 
faith in my perseverance. This only excited me 
3 



xxvi 



PREFACE. 



the more; I wrote incessantly the next day, and the 
third. Hope grew with every communication with 
my sister, and as I advanced, my subject became 
more interesting to me. In this way I continued 
uninterruptedly at work, without looking to the right 
or to the left, till at the end of six weeks I had the 
pleasure of seeing the manuscript finished. I show- 
ed it to my friend Merk, who expressed himself 
kindly and sensibly with regard to it, and then T 
sent it to Herder. But he returned it with many harsh 
and unfriendly observations, and even added some 
satirical verses, in which he treated it with ridicule. 
The first act was sufficiently consistent; but, as I 
had begun without any previous plan or design to 
check my imagination, in the other acts, and espe- 
cially in the last, a curious passion had uncon- 
sciously misled me. While I was endeavouring to 
paint in strong colours the fascinating beauty of 
Adelheid, I fell in love with her myself: my pen 
was involuntarily devoted to her, and the proper 
hero of the drama was, on her account, compara- 
tively neglected. After some reflection, I deter- 
mined to correct this fault, and give my drama a 
more historical form, by leaving out whatever was 
fabulous, or addressed solely to the passions. With- 



PREFACE. 



xxvii 



out therefore attempting to alter the first manuscript 
(which I still have in mj possession in its original 
form) I undertook to write the whole drama over, 
and I applied myself to the task with such industry 
that in the course of a few weeks more an entirely 
new piece lay finished before me; — in which I endeav- 
oured to exhibit the errors of a well-intentioned and 
chivalrous man, who, in the midst of times of violence 
and anarchy, usurped the place of the laws and public 
authority, but fell into despair as soon as he found 
that the only power he respected, the head of the 
empire, treated him as a rebellious subject.- — I 
finished this second piece the more hastily, because 
I scarcely expected ever to publish it; but rather 
intended it as an exercise for future productions, 
which I should undertake with more care and pre- 
paration."* 

And this is Gothe's own account of his youth- 
ful labours with his maiden effort—which w-as pub- 
lished before he reached the age of manhood, but 
which, according to his commentators, must never- 
theless be considered ''a splendid edifice, reared 

'^Aus meiiiem Lehen. 12 tes and 13 tes Buch. Vol. xxvi. 
pp. 143. 199, 200. Cotta's 12mo edition of Gothe's Works. 
1829. 



XXVlll 



PREFACE. 



upon a deep study of society and human character'' 
— "containing profound philosophic views, the result 
of many years of reflection" — and placing him at once 
upon the thronebeside Shakspeare himself ! — Itwould 
have been fortunate for those who honestly desire to 
appreciate the beauty and power of Gothe's writings, 
if he had spoken with the same sincerity of some other 
of his works which have excited far more attention 
than G'dtz von Berlichingen. But, after what seems 
to have been an involuntary ebullition of frankness on 
his part, his lips — for the public — were sealed forever. 
The brief and unsatisfactory notices of Werther and 
Egmont — the last, too, contained in the posthumous 
volume of his Memoirs — have concluded all that w^e 
are ever to learn from him in illustration of his feelings 
and purposes as an author. He lived to a great age, 
and heard continually around him the disputes which 
were occasioned by his mystical productions, and 
which often approached to bitterness and personality. 
All the eminent literary men of the day took part in 
these disputes, among whom were many of his own 
personal friends, who were in the habit of frequent 
intercourse with him. He was, therefore, assuredly 
called upon to say something which should put a 
stop to such bickerings, for their sakes, if not for his 



PREFACE. 



xxix 



own. But, when he did interfere, it was only to 
divide and bewilder them more than ever — and in 
the judgment of posterity, the charge will be sus- 
tained, which is now regularly brought against him, 
that "he has designedly thrown a quantity of enig- 
matical and unintelligible writino- into his latter 
works, by way of keeping up a system of discussion 
and strife upon his own meaning amongst the critics 
of his country — these disputes, had his meaning been 
of any value in his own eyes, he would naturally have 
settled by a few authoritative words from himself^ 
but it was his policy to keep alive the feud in a case 
where it was of importance that his name should 
continue to agitate the world, but of none at all that 
he should be rightly interpreted."* When Gdthe's 

* Miss Austin's work entitled Characteristics of Gothe, is 
well known, and deserves a high rank among the numerous 
productions which have been devoted to the illustration of the 
character and writings of ^'tke many-sided Poet^* The notes 
appended to each volume are written with great talent, and 
some of them with a purity and simplicity of style which con- 
trasts strangely with the Germanisms abounding in other 
parts of the work. It would seem, however, that some apology 
is intended for the use of these Germanisms in the frequent 
complaints which are made of the poverty of the English 

* The favourite epithet of Gothe's admirers. Miss Austin fre- 
quently speaks of his ^'wonderful manysidedness.'^ 

3* 



XXX 



PREFACE. 



fame was at the highest, a few writers both of France 
and England, ventured to hint at this intentional 

idiom, and its total want of power to express the beauty and 
force of the German: but it may be suggested that such com- 
plaints, whether in the form of an apolog}^, or in any other 
form, are no proof either of good scholarship or of good 
sense, when applied to the language of Shakspeare and Milton. 

Among the eulogies of Gothe translated from foreign 
writers, and introduced by Miss Austin, is one which she 
calls a "new and important addition to the materials for 
judging of Gothe," from the pen of a gentleman, "who holds 
the situation of tutor to the 3''oung princes of Weimar." This 
eulogy begins by placing "Gothe'sname at the head of almost 
every branch of knowledge — the splendour of his literary re- 
nown threw into the shade that to which he was entitled on 
other grounds — his labours in natural history, and ev^en in 
physical science v/ouJd have sufficed to make the reputation 

of an ordinary sqavanV^ and the discourse is continued 

throughout in the same elevated strain. The following para- 
graph relates to Gothe's obscurity: 

"He might have revealed himself more distinctly; but 
mystery was with him the object of a sort of reverence, or 
the result of a system. We may suppose him to have said — I 
will reveal myself only to those who can understand me, and 
they will divine me at half a word." Vol. iii. p. 40. 

This is going quite as far as the hostile critic whose lan- 
guage is quoted above — though the "tutor to the young 
princes" doubtless intends it very differently. Miss Austin 
herself has some remarks on the same subject: — 

"Those who require that an author should reflect back 
upon them their own familiar thoughts, clad in varied dresses, 
and adorned with new-invented ornaments, will do well not 
to concern themselves with Gothe; he can be to them nothing 
but a wonder and a stumbling block. German literature is 



PREFACE. 



xxxi 



obscurity of the most admired of his productions; 
but they were at once put down by the authoritative 
answer, that they could not understand him, and 
Voltaire's criticisms upon Shakspeare were held up 
as a memorable example to terrify them into silence. 
This answer can no longer be resorted to — for 
some of Giithe's own countrymen, who have them- 
selves assisted in the learned illustrations of Faust 
and Wilhehn Meister, are now beginning publicly 
to advocate the opinion, maintained for some time in 

inextricably interwoven with German philosophy. There is 
not a fairy tale of Tieck, not a song of Gothe, not a play of 
Schiller, not a criticism of Schlegel, not a description of Hum- 
boldt, in which this imder-current is not perceptible; nay, how- 
ever paradoxical it may appear, I w^ill venture to affirm that 
German music has received much of its peculiar character 
from the same source; that the compositions of Beethoven, 
Weber, Spohr, Mendelssohn are deeply tinctured with the 
same spirit. It is as well to say this frankly, since those to 
whom such topics and such tendencies are unpalateable, ought 
not to be betrayed into wasting their time." Vol. iii. note to 
p. 227. 

This is indeed philosophy beyond the common apprehen- 
sion! Mr. Carlyle's Philosophy of Clothes is thrown complete- 
ly into the shade by it— although Miss Austin, in the preface 
to her book, formally yields him the precedence in these ca- 
balistic investigations, and admits that -'he can see further 
than she can." Her frankness in the concluding sentence of 
the extract should therefore receive peculiar acknowledg- 
ments. 



xxxii 



PREFACE. 



England, that he has written nothing superior to 
Werther, his first Romance, and that, as a work of 
the imagination, it is in fact to be considered his 
most successful effort. It may be remarked, how- 
ever, without altogether dissenting from this opinion, 
that it seems too much like running from one ex- 
treme to the other, and its correctness should be 
left to the judgment of another age, which will not 
fail to be impartial. 

But, while the leading men of letters of the present 
day thus freely criticise Gothe's poetic attempts at the 
philosophic and the ideal, they all yield him their un- 
qualified admiration whenever his genius employs 
itself upon the more simple theme of real life — the 
proper province of the Poet. It has often been ad- 
mitted that the closing scene of the first part of Faust 
surpasses in effect the far-famed Episodes of Francesca 
di Rimini Ugolino in Dante's 7/?/erno; and indeed 
in every instance that he addresses himself solely to 
human feeling, he exhibits such power as to leave no 
doubt that, if confiding too much in his own strength 
he had not been led away in a mistaken pursuit, his 
name would have gone down to after generations, 
associated with tliose of the few men of genius 
v.'hose works have endured the touchstone of time. 



PREFACE. 



xxxiii 



Some of his minor pieces, which have comparatively 
attracted little notice, certainly deserve, and per- 
haps may enjoy this rare distinction. Hermann and 
Dorothea is a narrative poem, having a simple plot, 
and dealing principally with rural life and scenery; 
and yet it is difficult to conceive any thing more 
masterly or more beautiful; the language — the ver- 
sification — the sentiment are all in perfect keeping, 
and present throughout the living tokens of the in- 
spiration of genius. Many of his lyrical produc- 
tions should receive praise in all respects equal to 
this, and one or two of his short miscellaneous 
poems might be mentioned, as belonging to the same 
elevated class. Gbtz von Berlichingen, it is true, 
cannot be compared with any of these; but it is 
nevertheless a remarkable proof of Gothe's talent 
in a line of composition which he has attempted but 
seldom. He has fully accomplished in it all which 
he says himself he endeavoured to do, however far 
it may fall below the ideal standard to which his 
commentators have undertaken to raise it.* 

* The following extract contains a brief criticism of some 
pieces which are said to rank immediately after Faust and 
Wilhelm Meister: — 

" To the dramatic works of Gothe w^e are disposed to pay 
more homage; but neither in the absolute amount of our 



XXXIV 



PREFACE. 



A few words yet remain to be said on the subject 
of the English version of this Drama which is now 
offered to the public. In Gothe's Posthumous 
Works, published bj Cotta in 1832-33, a whole 
volume is taken up with two dramatic pieces, which 

homage at all professing to approach his public admirers, 
nor to distribute the proportions of this homage amongst his 
several performances, according to the graduations of their 
scale. The Iphigenie is built upon the old subject of Iphigenia 
in Tauris, as treated by Euripides and other Grecian dra- 
matists; and if we are to believe a Schlegel, it is in beauty 
and effect a mere echo, or reverberation from the finest 
strains of the old Grecian music. That it is somewhat nearer 
to the Greek model than a play after the fashion of Racine, 
we grant. Setting aside such faithful transcripts from the 
antique as the Samson Agonistes, we might consent to view 
Gothe as that one amongst the moderns who has made the 
closest approximation to the Greek stage: '■^ Proximns^^ we 
might say with Gluintilian, but with him we must add '■^ seel 
long interv alio and if in the second rank, yet nearer to the 
third than to the first. Two other dramas, the Clavigo and 
the Egmojit, fall below the Iphigenie by the very character of 
their pretensions ; the first as too openly renouncing the gran- 
deurs of the ideal; the second as confessedly violating the 
historic truth of character, without temptation to do so, and 
without any consequent indemnification. The Tasso has 
been supposed to realize an Italian beauty of genial warmth 
and of sunny repose ; but from the common defect of German 
criticism — the absence of all sufl^cient illustrations — it is as 
difficult to understand the true nature and constituents of the 
supposed Italian siaiidard set up for the regulation of our 
judgments, as it is to measure the degree of approach made 
to that standard in this particular work." 



PREFACE. 



XXXV 



prove to be two distinct variations of the drama of 
Gotz von Berlichingen published in the preceding 
editions of his works. One is entitled The history 
of Godfrey of Berlichingen dramatised , and the other 
Gotz von Berlichingen, laboured ( over) for the stage.* 
The former of these pieces is probably the drama as 
Giithe originally wrote it, before he undertook to 
remodel it as he tells us in his Memoirs, from which 
an extract has already been presented — the latter is 
evidently the work of his more advanced years. The 
drama is in fact for a second time entirely changed. 
Several new scenes are introduced— others are trans- 
posed, and some are cut out altogether. The dia- 
logue is regularly written over — the characters are 
sketched with greater distinctness and vigour — the 
plot or story is improved, and although there is the 
same disregard to the unities, considerable care has 
been taken to avoid any direct collision with the 
probable. This new labour of the author upon what 
seems to have been a favourite production, suggested 

* Gothe's nachgelassene Werke. 2 ler Band. Stuttgart 
and Tubingen, 1832. 
Inhalt: 

GescMchte Gottfrieclens von Berlichingen mit der eisernen 
Hand — dramatisirt. 
Gotz von Berlichingen mit der eisernen Hand. Schauspiel 
infiinf Aufzugen—fiir die Biihne bearbeitet. 



XXXVl 



PREFACE. 



the idea of the following version, which has been 
undertaken after a separate translation of each of the 
three pieces, and an attentive comparison of their 
different scenes. It is singular that Gothe at a late 
period of his life should have seriously employed 
himself in correcting and giving another form to the 
first production with which he appeared before the 
public; and his commentators, who have indulged in 
such lofty language with regard to that production, 
are now much embarrassed in what manner to speak 
of this unexpected revision of it — presented to the 
world after an interval of so many years. They 
have certainly precluded themselves from alio wing- 
that there was room for any improvement; and 
although some of them have asserted that in order to 
adapt it to scenic representation, it was necessary 
to write the piece over again — still as it often has 
been represented with the greatest success in its 
first form at the Imperial Theatre at Vienna, this 
view is by no means a satisfactory one. The dilem - 
ma, however, is of their own creating, and serves to 
illustrate still further the remarks which have been 
made upon the nature of their criticisms: — 

Inanes 

Hoc juvat, hand illiul quccrentcs, imm sine sensu 
Tempore niim i'aciant alicno. 



PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. 



The Emperor Maximilian. 
The Bishop of Bamberg. 
GoETZ VON Berlichingen. 
Elisabeth, Ms wife, 
Marie, his sister, 
Carl, his son, 
Franz von Sickingen. 
Hans von Selbiz. 
Adelbert von Weislingen. 
Adelheid von Walldorf. 
Judges of the Secret Tribunal. 
Brother Martin. 
George, Page of Berlichingen. 
Franz, Page of Weislingen. 
Two Nurenberg Merchants. 
Faud, 



]R, \ 



^ t Men at arms of Berlichingen. 

Peter, ' 

Metzler, 

Sievers, ! 

Link, Leaders of the rebel Peasants, 

Kohl, J 

Gipsies, Men at Arms, Peasants, Servants, &c. 



A 



f 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN, 

WITH 

THE IRON HAND. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I.— SCHWARZENBERG IN FRANCONIA,— 
A TAVERN. 

Metzler, Sievers, two Horsemen of the Bishop of 
Bamberg, Faud, and Peter sitting apart by the 
fire. 

sievers. 

Come, surlj Metzler, one more glass of brandy, 
that our parting may be christian-like. 

METZLER. 

Good — but first bring your story about Berlichin- 
gen, to an end. The Bamberg horsemen there, sit 



12 GOETZ VOJN BERLICHINGEN. [Act I. 

scowling bravely at us, and if they want a fair ex- 
cuse to fight, in God's name let them have itl 

SIEVERS. 

Bamberg horsemen! what do they here? 

METZLER. 

Weislingen has been at the castle with the Count 
for two days past; they were his escort here, and are 
to ride back with him to Bamberg. 

Faud [listens eagerly, and then aside to Peter, 

Dost hear Camerad? Our \veary hunt is up: Weis- 
lingen is with Count Schwarzenberg! 

SIEVERS. 

Who is this Weislingen of whom you talk so 
much.^ 

METZLER. 

The Bishop's right hand — you'll know him soon — 
a powerful lord, and one of the worst plotters against 
Berlichingen. 

SIEVERS. 

Let him beware then. 

METZLER. 

T say amen! But I pray you to your story once 



Scene I.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 13 

again. (Raising his voice,) Berlichingen seems al- 
ways at war with the Lord Bishop of Bamberg. I 
thought they had pretended to settle all their an- 
cient quarrels. 

SIEVERS. 

Yes settle an ancient quarrel with a priest, if 

you are able! When things at last put on a war- 
like look, and the Bishop saw that he must be a 
loser, he came down upon his knees, and begged 
outright to bring about a reconciliation. And the 
true hearted Gotz at once was ready to hold out 
his hand, as he always is, when he has the advan- 
tage. 

METZLER. 

God save him! a noble knidit. 

SIEVERS. 

And then, no sooner was suspicion put to rest, 
than the false kerl sent out a party and seized a 
messenger that Berlichingen had despatched to 
Selbizl He hoped to find papers on the varlet, 
which he might use to ruin Berlichingen with the 
Emperor. But the time is coming when he'll an- 
swer for that and for other evil deeds. 

A 2 



14 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



[Act I. 



METZLER. 

So the priest struck the last blow — and what 

said the fiery Gotz? 

SIEVERS. 

He was wild with rage, and waylaid the Bishop 
with forty horsemen on the high road to Bamberg. 
His plan was well contrived, but in spite of all his 
care, the lying bald pate slipped from the clutch of 
his Iron Hand. 

FIRST BAMBERG HORSEMAN. 

What do you say there about our Lord the Bishop? 
Are you seeking a quarrel, my masters ! 

SIEVERS. 

Saddle your own horses. Sir cut-purse I you'll 
find that our donkeys kick. 

FIRST HORSEMAN ( Starting KJ),) 

Take that, pot brawler ! 

( Gives SiEVERs a blow on the face,) 

METZLER. 

Strike the dog dead! (they both fall upon hiim) 

SECOND HORSEMAN (dfaiviug his swovd, ) 
You have another to deal with, cowards! 



Scene IT ] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 15 

FAUD (to Peter,) 
Now, old Peter! out, and away to Winsdorfer! 
The fray here is yet more good fortune for us; we 
should else have scarce got off without the suspi- 
cions of these accursed Bambergers. 

PETER. 

You go too fast, Camerad — the fight looks seri- 
ous, and the boors, you know, are our friends. 

FAUD. 

The devil, milksop! Let the fools throttle each 
other! Our news has staid too long already. To 
horse for BerlichingenI [Exeunt. 



SCENE IL— WINSDORFER FOREST. 

BERLICHINGEN (befove the door of a cabin made oj 
fallen trees.) 

Where do my trusty horsemen delay so long? I 
must walk faster or sleep will overpower me. Five 
days and nights upon the watch — a wearisome time, 
and anxious, but when I have you, Weislingen, I 
shall forget it. George! George! I am your debtor, 



IQ GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act I. 

wily priest. You have sent your smooth-tongued 
Weislingen from Count to Count, from Baron to 
Baron, and blackened me till my name has become 
a by -word. My limbs are numb, I must walk still 
faster — you have escaped me Bishop — 'tis well — 
Weislingen is left to pay the forfeit for you — so let 
him pay it. George ! Does the yunker hear me — 
George! George! 

Enter George, with a large cuirass buckled upon 
him, 

GEORGE. 

Dread Sir! 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Where have you been.^ you have not slept? AVhat 
mummery i^ this.^ Come nearer, boy — be not afraid. 
Before long, you will be strong enough to wear a 
breast-plate of your own, and bend a cross-bow too. 
You have there Hans' cuirass? 

GEORGE. 

He wished to sleep a little, and threw it oft'. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

He is more happy than liis master. 

GEORGE. 

Be not angry. I brought the cuirass lightly 



Scene II.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 17 

away, and with the long sword you gave me, kept 
guard upon the meadow. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

And slashed about you there like a Bamberg 
horseman. Wo to the briars and thistles that came 
in your way! Is Hans still asleep? 

GEORGE. 

At your cry he sprang up, and shouted to me — I 
began with haste to undo the breast straps, but still 
I heard you call louder and louder — so I ran hither, 
even as I am. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Go — carry Hans his arms again. Bid him look 
well to our horses. 

GEORGE. 

I have already fed and saddled them — ^you can 
mount in the instant. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Go, then, and bring me wine. Let Hans be 
ready, for each moment I expect old Faud and 
Peter with their news. What ails you, boy? 

GEORGE. 

May I not go with you, dread Sir? 



18 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act I. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Another time, George, when we are to set upon a 
caravan of merchants. 

GEORGE. 

Another time I Alas, my Lord, you have said 
that so often. Let me go this time — I promise to 
keep behind, or to watch on one side. I can pick 
up the shafts from the cross-bows. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

The next time, George, you shall go, by my word. 
You have no arms, and the fight will be a hard one. 
The coming times, too, need men to act in them. I 
tell you, boy, that you shall see princes humbled 
before a man whom they now proscribe and hate. 
Go, take back the cuirass, and bring me wine. 

[_Exit George. 

Where do my horsemen delay so long? I begin to 
fear some disappointment. By heaven! a monk 
comes through the forest 1 What strange adventure 
next — 

(^Enter Brotiikr Martin.) 
God save vou, reverend Father — whither so late? 

brother martin. 
Thanks, noble Sir, I am only an humble Brother, 



Scene II.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. X9 

called Augustin in the cloister, though I love better 
my baptismal name, Martin — Brother Martin. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

You look wearied, Brother Martin, and are 
doubtless thirsty too — [JEnter George with wine) — 
and here comes wine, at the right moment. 

BROTHER MARTIN (tO GeOVge.) 

Bring me a drink of water, my brave boy — Pll 
thank you for it. (Exit George.^ I dare drink 
no wine. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Is your vow against wine? 

BROTHER MARTIN. 

No, my Lord, my vow is not against wine, but 
wine is against my vow — so I drink no wine. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

How do you make out that? 

BROTHER MARTIN. 

'Tis well you understand me not! T mean that 
the life of man consists in eating and drinking. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Indeed! 



20 



GOETZ VOJN BERLICHINGEN. [Act I. 



BROTHER MARTIN. 

When you have eaten and drunken, you are like 
one new-born. Wine rejoices the heart of man, and 
joy is the mother of all the virtues. When you 
have drunken wine, all your powers are doubled — 
you are quick to contrive, bold to undertake, and 
fortunate in achieving. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

As I drink it, you have truly spoken. — George! 

BROTHER MARTIN. 

It was of gallant knights like you, that I spoke. 
But we [Enter George.) 

BERLICHINGEN ( draws Mm aside.) 

Go to the Dachsbach road, and lay your ear upon 
the ground — listen till you hear the feet of horses, 
and then be with me like the wind. 

[_£xit George. 

BROTHER MARTIN. 

But we — when we have eaten and drunken, we are 
the opposite of all that is becoming and manly — 
dead to every noble aspiration, incapable of thought 
— wandering in prayer, and restless upon our bed. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

A goblet of my wine, Brother Martin, will not 



Scene II.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 21 

disturb your sleep. You have travelled far to-day. 
(Drinks,) I drink to your vocation. 

BROTHER MARTIN. 

To idleness you mean. Had heaven made me 
even the poorest vassal, I might have been most 
happy ^ but now it is impossible! My Superior 
loves me, and as he knows that I am ever restless 
and distracted, he sends me forth to find some re- 
spite from the fever which so incessantly torments 
me. I go now to the Bishop of Constanz, 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Why do you gaze so wistfully at me, Brother? 

BROTHER MARTIN. 

The glitter of your armour fascinates me. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

'Tis heavy, and wearisome to bear. 

BROTHER MARTIN. 

Alas I what is not wearisome in this sad world? 
And what can be more wearisome than my own 
wretched, monotonous existence? Poverty, chas- 
tity, and obedience — vows which may soon be taken, 
but which can hardly be performed! And under 

B 



22 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act I. 

the load of such vows must I drag out my life in 
spiritless endurance, or else awaken the gnawings 
of a conscience which may indeed be blunted, but 
which can never die I 0, my Lord, what are the 
dangers and anxieties of your life, to the silent sor- 
rows of a state, in which, through a mistaken desire 
to draw^ nearer to God, the best and warmest long- 
ings of our nature are forbidden and condemned! 

BERLICHINGEN. 

You have reason to be sad, Brother, but let me 
drink to your happy return. 

BROTHER MARTIN. 

That you must drink only for yourself. A return 
to my prison can never be a happy one. When you 
return, my Lord, to your moated castle, from long 
peril and conflict, with the knowledge of your 
bravery and strength, which no weariness can take 
from you, and for the first time, after incessant 
watchfulness, sink softly to' slumber, safe from all 
hostile attack and midnight surprise, 'tis like gush- 
ing water to the burnings of consuming thirst! And 
then 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Why do you hesitate.^ 



Scene IT.] GOETZ VOJN BERLICHINGEN. 23 
BROTHER MARTIN. 

And your women! Have you a wife, my Lord? 

BERLICHINGEN. 

A noble and a chaste wife. 

BROTHER MARTIN. 

That man is fortunate, whose wife is chaste. 
[Unter George.) 

GEORGE. 

My Lord, I hear the feet of horses — they come at 
full speed ! 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Lead out my horse, then, and let Hans mount at 
once. Farewell, Brother Martin! Have faith in 
God. He is the father of us all, and will be merciful 
at last. Be patient and long suffering — nothing 
else can now remain for you. 

BROTHER MARTIN. 

I know it well. But, my Lord, before we part, 
let me demand your name? 

BERLICHINGEN. 

My name had better be unknown. 

( Gives him his left hand,) 



24 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act I. 



BROTHER MARTIN. 

Why do you stretch forth your left hand? Am I 
not worthy of the knightly right hand? 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Were you the Emperor himself, Brother Martin, 
you would have to be content to grasp the left. The 
right, though not useless in battle, to the gentle 
pressure of love and friendship has long been cold 
and senseless. It is the same with the gauntlet 
which covers it. You see it is of iron. 

BROTHER MARTIN. 

So, then, you are Gotz von Berlichingen ! I 
thank thee, God ! that thou iiast permitted me to 
see this man, whom the mighty hate, and to whom 
the oppressed fly. (He grasps Berlichingen's 
right hand,) Give me this hand — let me kiss it. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

You shall not. 

BROTHER MARTIN. 

'Tis of more worth than a holy relique hand, 
through which the blood of martyrs once hath flown. 
(Still grasping his hand.) Inanimate semblance! 



Scene II.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 25 

quickened by the spirit's trust in God! There was 
a monk of our cloister, my Lord, who was your 
confessor when you lost this hand at Landshut. He 
related to us much of your sufferings, and anxious 
fears, lest you should be maimed and helpless, and 
forever hindered from soldiers' duty. 'Twas he who 
told you of the knight whose right hand was stricken 
off in the wars of the holy sepulchre, but who there- 
after, still fought bravely, and at last died upon the 
field, under his own victorious banner. Then at 
once, with lofty confidence and faith, you said, ''It 
surely would avail me nothing, had I twelve hands, 
without the grace of God. So, then, trusting in him 
with but one poor hand, I may, like that bold 
knight " [c^ trumpet sounds without, 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Worthy Brother Martin, I must away in haste. 
Farewell till we shall meet again. 

BROTHER MARTIN. 

Forget me not, my Lord, as I shall not forget 
you. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Who can say where we shall meet again Yet, 

if we both, with steadfast hearts, order our footsteps 
B 2 



26 GOETZ VON BERLFCHINGEN. [Act I. 

in the path of truth and honour, we cannot fail to 
meet again, and that before we journey far. Injus- 
tice and hypocrisy are in the cloister, Brother, as 
w^ell as in the camp. You should combat them with 
spiritual weapons, in holy stillness, while I now 
march against them in the open field. God help us 
both, and so — farewell! [^Exeunt. 



SCENE III.— SALOON AT JAXTHAUSEN. 

Elisabeth, Marie, Carl, 
elisabeth. 

I cannot tell what has delayed my Lord so long. 
Already five days and nights away, and yet he said 
his absence would scarce exceed so many hours. 

MARIE. 

Our constant fears are even worse than real dan- 
gers. My brother dares too much, and in the ex- 
citement of his wild adventures forgets those whom 
he leaves behind to tremble and to weep. 

ELISABETH. 

Sister, you do wrong to speak thus before Berlich- 
ingen's son! 



Scene III.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



27 



CARL. 

Must father dare so much? 

MARIE. 

Such is his pleasure. 

ELISABETH. 

Listen, boj! — There was a poor wood-cutter in 
l^'ranconia, who had a little cottage and a field of 
corn, which was all his living. And the huntsmen 
of the Baron of Wildenholz rode furiously over the 
corn, with their horses and their hounds, and broke 
and crushed it down upon the earth. Then the wood- 
cutter, who saw that the bread was taken away from 
his children, went to the castle of the Baron, and 
prayed him to make redress for the injury he had 
received. But the Baron would not hear his com- 
plaint, and his servants beat the wood-cutter, and 
thrust him forth from the castle. So he came, at 
the last, to your father, and told him of the cruelty 
and injustice of the Lord of Wildenholz. And your 
father was angry, and rode forth at once, and went 
alone — without his men-at-arms — to the castle of 
the Baron, where he reproached him for the wrong 
he had done, and required him to pay the wood-cutter 
twice the value of the corn destroyed by his hunts- 



28 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act I. 

men. Now, though the Baron is a haughty and 
powerful Lord, still he feared Berlichingen with 
the Iron Hand — so he promised to recompense the 
wood -cutter even for all he had lost. And, before 
many days, one of his serving-men carried fifty golden 
ducats to the wood-cutter's cottage,who w^as content, 
and bought bread for his children, and no longer 
feared the violence of the huntsmen of Wildenholz. 
Would not you also have ridden forth like your 
father, my son.^ 

CARL. 

No, no, mother — not alone through the thick, dark 
forest and brakes — elves and gipsies are there ! 

ELISABETH. 

A foolish boy — to have fear of elves and gipsies. 

MARIE. 

You say well, Carl, and when you are grown to 
be a man, you shall live in quiet at your castle like 
a christian knight, without ever madly wandering 
forth to seek adventures. The daring knights com- 
mit more wrongs than they redress, and I wonder 
not that any who love peace and mercy, should fly 
for refuge from this world of violence and clamour 
to the tranquil and holy silence of the cloister! 



Scene III.] 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



29 



ELISABETH. 

Sister, you know not what you say. God grant 
that this young child may reach his manhood, bold 
and fortunate. May he be always fearless in the 
hour of danger^ and to the friends who trust him, 
faithful even to death! Unlike the perfidious Weis- 
lingen, who now is every where esteemed and 
favoured, and who yet has acted so falsely — so 
treacherously with your brother. 

MARIE. 

We should not judge too rashly, Elisabeth, My 
brother now is bitterly incensed against him, and 
you partake his angry feelings. I am but a spectator 
of your difference, and may therefore be impartial. 

ELISABETH. 

His conduct cannot be extenuated. 

MARIE. 

Much that I have heard, has disposed me in his 
favour. Your husband himself relates many stories 
of his strong affection and manly courage, and how 
often does he talk of the happy days of their youth, 
when they were pages together at the court of the 
Margrave ! 



30 



GOETZ VON BERLlCIilNGEN. 



[Act I. 



ELISABETH. 

It may be so. But tell me, what good can ever 
dwell in that man who has estranged himself from 
the faithful companions of his early days — who has 
sold his service to the enemies of a true and noble 
friend — and who now, by secret practices, would 
deprive us of our sovereign's favour, from whom till 
lately we received such frequent marks of gracious 
confidence. [_A trumpet sounds suddenly without. 

CARL. 

'Tis father's march! I know it well — the guard 
are opening the gates ! 

[Enter Faud.) 

FAUD. 

The hunt is up — the prey is in the snare! God 
forgive me, and save you, noble ladies 

ELISABETH. 

Old man, you are welcome, if Weislingen be your 
prisoner 

FAUD. 

He is, with three horsemen. 

ELISABETH, 

here fore have you made us wait so long? 



Scene III.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



31 



TAUD. 

Five days and nights, gracious Lady, we watched 
for him between Nurenberg and Bamberg — he came 
not, and yet we knew that he was on the road. At 
last a sudden chance disclosed his track. He had 
turned oft* upon his journey, and was resting quietly 
at the castle of Count Schwarzenberg 

ELISABETH. 

Whom he was endeavouring, by his crafty speech, 
to engage with the enemies of your brother, Marie, 
— a proof of strong affection and manly courage! 

FATJD. 

I brought the news in haste to my Lord. Away I 
and we dashed into the Haslacher forest. And, as 
we rode swiftly through the still night, we saw a 
pack of hungry wolves devouring sheep — they had 
torn the shepherd and the flock were scattered. 
Then my lord laughed, and cried ^'Good luck to 
you, my merry rovers, and good luck to us, too," 
and we all rejoiced in that propitious sign. But 
soon came Weislingen with four men-at-arms 



MARIE. 

And did my brother fight with him.^ 



32 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



[Act I. 



FAUD. 

As my Lord ordered, my Camerad and I, both of 
a sudden sprang upon him, and nestled so closely 
to him, that he could neither call nor stir. My Lord 
and Hans assailed the men at arms; but they were 
cowards, and yielded themselves prisoners with 
scarce a blow — one has escaped — they were too 
many to be guarded well. 

ELISABETH. 

'Twas happily and boldly done! 

FAUD. 

And then we took from Weislingen the signs of 
knighthood — his sword and his right spur and gaunt- 
let — and told him that he was the prisoner of Gdtz 
von Berlichingen. 

MARIE. 

He should be much cast down. 

FAUD. 

Gloomy enough he seems to be, but speaks no 
word. 

ELISABETH. 

I am eager to behold him — are they far behind.^ 



Scene IIL] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



33 



FAUD. 

They ride now through the valley, and must 
soon be here. 

ELISABETH. 

Sister, take you the key of the wine cellar, and 
bring forth the best. They have deserved it. I go 
to prepare the dinner for our noble guest. [_Exit. 

CARL. 

Aunt, I will with you. 

MARIE. 

Come then, sir| but beware of elves and gipsies. 

[_Exit with Carl. 

FAUD. 

That boy is not his father's — he would else have 
gone with me to the stables. [Exit, 

(Enter Berlichingen and Weislingen, with 
servants,) 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Old Faud has well arrived before me. Come, 

unbuckle my armour and bring my doublet- — I can 

now take my long desired rest. Brother Martin, 

you indeed said truly! We owe you an anxious and 

c 



34 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act I. 

a tiring watch, Weislingeii. Be not so sad — throw 
oft' jour armour — your garments have come safe, I 
doubt not — and if they should be lost, 1 can lend 
you of mine own. 

WEISLINGEX. 

It matters not. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

I have a gay and handsome doublet for you. I wore 
it at the marriage of the noble Count Palatine — the 
very time your Lord, the Bishop, was most incensed 
against me. Fourteen days before, I had seized two 
of his ships upon the Main; and, as Franz von Sick- 
ingen and I were mounting the palace steps together, 
we saw the Bishop standing at the top. He stretched 
his hand to Franz, who was the first to pass, and 
gave it likewise to me, for I was close behind. Then 
I smiled and said to the Landgrave of Hanau, who, 
by chance, stood near, *'My Lord the Bishop of 
Bamberg, has given me his hand — I venture that he 
knew me not." The Bishop heard me, for I spoke 
aloud, and came forthwith, and said with haughty 
mien, *'You have guessed well, sir knight of Ber- 
lichingen. I gave you my hand because I knew 
you not." I then answered straight, **My Lord, 



Scene III.J GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 35 

since T received jour courtesy because you knew 
me not, herewith you have back your hand again — " 
and reached him forth my iron glove. Then he grew 
red with choler, and turned quick away and spoke 
with the Count Palatine, and with the Prince of 
Nassau, and complained that I should thus have 
answered him. But they would not listen, and all 
the company were pleased to see the overbearing 
priest smart for his arrogance. 

WEISLINGEN. 

I would that I were left alone! 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Why should you speak thus.^ I pray you be not 
unhappy. You are in my power, but you know well 
that I shall not abuse it. 

WEISLINGEN. 

That is your duty as a knight — I am a prisoner — 
and for the rest it matters little! 

(^Enter Carl.) 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Have you come at last to see your father, boy? 
How have you spent the time.^ 

CARL. 

"Well, father — aunt says Vv^ell. I have learned 
much 



3G GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act I. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Indeed! 

CARL. 

Shall I tell you about the Elf King? 

BERLICHINGEN. 

After dinner. 

CARL. 

I know yet something more. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

What should that be? 

CARL. 

Jaxthausen is a village and castle in the Jaxt. It 
has belonged two hundred years and more to the 
Lords of Berlichingen, free of knight service, and 
in their own demesne. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Do you not know the Lord of Berlichingen? 

CARL (bewildered,) 
Jaxthausen 

BERLICHINGEN. 

The boy is too learned to know his own father. 
To whom does Jaxthausen belong? 



Scene III.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 37 
CARL. 

Jaxthausen is a village and castle in the Jaxt. It 
has belono;eJ 

BERLICHINGEN. 

I ask not that. Each path, and brake, and ford 
of my father's home, I knew well, long — long before 
I could repeat their names. — Where is your mother, 
• — in the kitchen? ... 

CARL. 

Yes, father, and to-day we are to have white 
radishes and a roasted lamb for dinner 1 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Do you know that too, sir cook.^ 

CARL. 

And for me, aunt has a roasted apple, which I 
may eat after dinner. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Can you not eat it raw.^ 

CARL. 

But, father, it is better roasted. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

I can find no answer for that. Weislingen, I 
c 2 



^8 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act I. 

shall soon be here again. I must leave you for a 
moment, to speak with my wife. Come, Carl! 

CARL. 

Who is that man, father? 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Go, bid him welcome, and tell him to be merry. 

CARL. 

There, good man — have you a hand? Be merry, 
Sir, dinner will soon be ready. [_Carl runs out, 

WEISLINGEN. 

Happy child, who knows no sorrow, save when 
the dinner stays too long. You have my earnest 
wishes, Berlichingen, that your hopes may not be 
thwarted in your boy ! 

BERLICHINGEN. 

The more light the deeper sliadow; but, come 
what will, it may be calmly borne! [_Exit. 

WEISLINGEN (cilone.) 

Shall I not awake and find all this a dream? In 
Berlichingen's power, from whom I had scarce freed 
myself — whose overthrow I had contrived, and the 
very thought of whom I shunned like fire! And he 



Scene III.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 39 

— the old, true-hearted Gotz — who can be near him, 
and not be won bj him? Great God! what will 
happen from this! You are returned once more, 
Adelbert, to the old hall, where, as children, we 
have played together, and where we loved each other 
unlike this world — happy, happy times, now gone 
forever ! Alas, I feel so truly nothing here ! There is 
the chamber where we slept together — there the 
chapel where we knelt and prayed together — there 
the valley where we rambled together — in no joyful 
— no sorrowful moment were we ever parted. This 
place awakens all the slumbering feelings of the 
past, and startles forgotten echoes in my soul ! And 
now my thoughts wander back to the Lord Bishop's 
court, where I can see their trouble and distrust, as 
they learn that I am Berlichingen's prisoner. The 
present and the past are mingled here in strange, 
bewildering confusion ! 

[Enter Berlichingen.) 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Till the dinner be served, let us once more talk 
with each other, as in former times. Think that 
you are again in the castle of old Gdtz. 'Tis a long, 
long while, Weislingen, since we have met — where 
is the confidence of our early days? 



40 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGExV. 



[Act I. 



WEISLINGEN. 

Those days are gone! 

BERLICHINGEN. 

God forbid ! True, we can scarce be happier than 
we were when at the Margrave's court — where we 
played and slept together — but other pleasant days 
may yet await us. My memory dwells willingly 
upon our youth — you must remember my quarrel 
with the Pole, whose curled hair, by chance, I ruf- 
fled with my elbow. 

WEISLINGEN. 

It was at table, and he stabbed at you with a din- 
ner knife. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Then I struck him down, and you stepped in 
before his friends, who would have Allien upon me. 
We were always ready to uphold each other, and 
were much talked of by the court for our fidelity. 
The Margrave used to drink to us as Castor and 
Pollux. 

WEISLINGEN. 

The Bishop of Wiirtzburg first called us so. 



Scene III.] 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



41 



BERLICHINGEN. 

I well remember him; a learned and a courteous 
gentleman. He often praised our mutual attach- 
ment, and said, that man was truly happy who made 
himself the brother of his friend. 

WEISLINGEN. 

No more, I pray you. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

And, why no more? Is there aught that can 
offend you in the recollection of the happy days we 
passed together? We once had neither separate joy 
nor sorrow — our interests ever were the same, and 
in the crowd of selfish, flattering courtiers, we alone 
had no care but for each other. You were my whole 
trust and consolation when I lost this good right hand 
at Landshut; you watched by me day and night — 
you cheered my sinking spirits; and when despair 
would fasten on me, you wept with me like a bro- 
ther! I then hoped, — Adelbert will be henceforth 
to me in place of my right hand. — And, now 

WEISLINGEN. 

Break off, for I can bear no more. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Had you but followed me to Brabant, as I so 



42 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act I. 

earnestly besought you, all had still been well. But 
you were held back by the false flitter of a life at 
court, and by the smiles and leers of wanton wo- 
men. 

WEISLINGEN. 

Why do you thus drag forth the past? 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Would to God that I could forget it, or that it 
had never been! Are you not born as free — as 
noble, as any knight in all our Father-land? Inde- 
pendent, subject to the Emperor alone — and yet 
you bow yourself beneath the feet of vassals! What 
have you to do with my Lord the Bishop of Bam- 
berg? Because his domains are bordering upon 
yours, do you fear the inroads of his overgrown 
power? I have friends and men at arms enough to 
set him at defiance! By heaven! you are degraded 
from the rank of a free knight, who serves but God 
and the Emperor, and sunk among a herd of fawning 
parasites, to pander to the passions of a petty tyrant, 
whose treachery and vice have long miide him a 
blot even upon the Priesthood! 

W^EISLINGEN. 

Will you hear me speak? 



Scene III.] GOETZ VON BERLICfflNGEN. 



48 



BERLICHINGEN. 

What can you have to say? 

WEISLINGEN. 

You look npon our princes, as a wolf regards the 
shepherds. And do you then blame them, that they 
should attempt to save their defenceless vassals and 
their own firesides? They are not secure, even for 
a single moment from the assaults of lawless knights 
who slay the subjects of the empire upon the high 
roads, and in the broad face of day plunder and de- 
stroy castles and villages! The dominions of our 
gracious sovereign too, are now threatened on all 
sides by our common enemy, the Turks — he calls 
to us for help — and can afford us none. There was 
but one way left, to check this wide spread vio- 
lence and rapine-— a league between the lesser 
Barons and the greater, which has already brought 
about the dawnings of tranquillity and peace in our 
distracted land. And yet you still proscribe us, 
Berlichingen, because we have thus rallied in our 
own defence beneath the banners of a power which 
is near, instead of vainly calling to a distant Majesty 
which can scarce protect itself! 

BERLICHINGEN. 

I undertand you well. Were your princes, W^eis- 



44 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act I. 

liiigen, as you paint them, we should soon have what 
we all so earnestly desire. Tranquillity and peace! 
By niy soul, I do believe that every bird of prey 
gladly devours its plundered food in quiet and 
security I The common weal! they would not stir 
a hair to further it. And with his majesty, the 
Emperor, they long have played a treacherous 
game. His wish has always been to do well, and he 
has therefore given a willing ear to plausible sug- 
gestions, and daily plans which seemed wisely con- 
trived for the advancement of the public good. 
'Twas easy to persuade a monarch to exert his power. 
The imperial archives are filled with proclamations 
issued in quick succession, which were forthwith 
forgotten and thrown aside, when their crafty insti- 
gators had served their purpose with them. Your 
gentle princes boast of tranquillity and peace, while 
they oppress the poor with ruthless hand, and hold 
our knighthood at their feet! 

WEISLINGEN. 

You are free to speak — I am the prisoner. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Were your conscience clear, you would be free 
also. Weislingen, I must speak yet more plainly. T 
have long been a thorn in the eyes of your most 



Scene III.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 45 

holy league. Sickingen and Selbiz share their hate 
with me, because, in bold defiance of their power, 
we have sworn an oath to yield our faith and service 
to none beside the Emperor! They have drawn their 
nets around me — slandered me — basely slandered 
me with my sovereign — estranged my ancient friends 
— and even threatened me — a loyal subject — with 
the ban of the empire! They must have me out of 
the way. I am strong enough to excite their fears, 
and they will leave no art untried to bring me down 
to ruin. 'Twas for this purpose that your Lord the 
Bishop seized my messenger to Selbiz; but the poor 
hireling proved faithful, and was unwilling to betray 
his master. And in all these most unworthy prac- 
tices you, Weislingen, have been their tool I 

WEISLINGEN. 

Berlichingen ! 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Not a word more — you cannot justify yourself. 
[Enter Carl.) 

CARL. 

Dinner, father, dinner ! 

BERLICHINGEN. 

A timely message. Come, Adelbert, my wife and 

D 



46 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act I. 

sister will, I hope, persuade you to forget my rude 
sincerity of speech. You were once a gay gallant 
enough — eager to win the favour of fair women. 
Come, and for a brief time at least, let us blot out 
the past ! \_Exeunt. 



END OF ACT I. 



ACT 11. 



SCENE I.—SALOON AT JAXTHAUSEN. 
Marie, Weislingen. 

MARIE. 

You have sworn to love me. Alas ! there is no 
need to swear. I am, I fear, too willing to believe 
you, and even to imagine there is a destiny to whose 
mysterious influence we may owe our mutual love I 

WEISLINGEN. 

Whether it be chance or destiny, my gentle love, 
I cannot tell ; but now my soul is bound to yours 
beyond recall. My numberless ambitious schemes, 
which have so long engrossed my thoughts — the 
wily artifices and intrigues of court, with its allur- 
ing pleasures — all — all have faded away from my 
memory like the delusions of a dream, and I have 
left no other feeling save my love for you. I can 



48 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act I. 

scarce believe there ever was a time in which I 
loved you not — when mj whole being thrilled not 
at the thought of your caresses — when I could not 
hope for transport and repose on this, my own un- 
sullied bosom. \^He folds his arms around her. 

MARIE. 

Dear Adelbert, I must leave you — your voice — 
your embrace have a strange influence over me — I 
cannot — dare not stay. 

WEISLINGEN. 

This fear does me much wrong, Marie! Guileless 
love like ours, is pleasant in the eyes of Deity him- 
self. 

MARIE. 

It may be so — but I have been told that caresses 
are entangling chains; and maidens, when they love, 
are weaker than ever Samson was, after his locks 
were shorn by his faithless leman. 

WEISLINGEN. 

And who taught you that? 

MARIE. 

The Lady Abbess of my convent. She gave me 
all her care till I had reached my sixteenth year, 



Scene I.] GOETZ VON BERLICfflNGEN. 49 

and 1 look no more in this selfish world for an af- 
fection warm and pure like her's. She once had 
loved, and could therefore talk of love. Her heart 
was full of gentleness, but strong and deep in every 
feeling. 

WEISLINGEN. 

In that she was indeed like you. — Dear Marie, 
how shall I ever thank you, that you w^ept when 
you first saw me here a prisoner, and by so many 
timid, yet sweet attentions, made me forget what at 
first I thoucrht an overwhelmino; evil. 

MARIE. 

When God sends misfortune on us, he is like the 
skilful husbandman who wounds the bosom of his 
fields with the sharpest ploughshare, that he may 
open them to the influence of heavenly light and 
dew. Our affection began its growth in sorrow— 
you have seen it bud and blossom, and now it bears 
the fairest flowers of love — they bloom thick around 
you! [Weislingen hisses her.'] Adelbert, I pray 
you, let me go — I cannot stay here thus. 

WEISLINGEN. 

One moment longer — dear, lovely girl I You 

surely do not fear me now? 

d2 



50 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act II. 



MARIE. 

Our Lady Abbess often compared love to beautiful 
and fragile flowers, and wo to him, she said, who 
rudely breaks them I By one unholy touch their fresh- 
ness is forever faded, and then — they are thrown aside 
to wither and to die! But if they happily should 
bear their golden fruit — to faithful hearts they prove 
a source of purest pleasure, which can never weary, 
and which can never fail. 

^VEISLINGEN. 

Alas ! dear Marie, I now feel how hard will be 
my parting from you! For many — many weary 
days I shall not hear your gentle voice, nor feel the 
soft pressure of these fairy hands. Away, amidst 
scenes and men that can no more insnare me, 
with what earnest longing shall my thoughts return 
to these well known halls, where the hours of 
my childhood glided so swiftly — so happily — where 
my manhood iias been crowned with a virtuous wo- 
man's love! Will you be sorrowful when I am 
gone.^ 

MARIE. 

A little sorrowful, — but 'tis better for us both, that 
you sliould now be absent for a time — and I expect, 



Scene!.] GOETZ VOJN BERLICHTNGEN. 51 

even anxiously, your handsome page, whom you 
despatched to Bamberg. We have had some dan- 
gerous moments here together. 

WEISLINGEN. 

still this strange, unnatural fear. — Am I bereft of 
reason? 

MARIE. 

Reason ! You know well there is no reason in a 
love like ours. Nay, look not so; I love you not 
the less, because I wish you gone. 

WEISLINGEN. 

Your Lady Abbess, I should say, carried her les- 
sons much too far, Marie. It is most true, that the 
noisy world with all its clashing interests and pur- 
suits, is nothing to us, when we are thus folded in 
each other's arms, and every thought and feeling 
centred in one deep, fervent longing. But, because 
we love, our desires are pure, and come down to us 
from God himself. We are what he made us, and 
among the fairest of the works of his creating power, 
is human love! Henceforth, I am to watch over 
you by day and night — to cherish you nearer and 
dearer than my life — to save you from all harm and 
evil — to open my bosom to every shaft of sorrow 



52 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act II. 

which may be aimed to pierce you — to be ever with 
you, in pain and sickness, in adversity, and in death 
— and yet you fear to trust me ! 

MARIE. 

No more, dear Adelbert — no more — ah, here comes 
my brother ! 

[Enter Berlichingen.) 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Your gallant page is safe back again from Bam- 
berg. He can scarce speak for weariness and hun- 
ger, and yet he has made shift to tell me, that my 
Lord the Bishop still refuses to give up my messen- 
ger. So let it be — but no matter how that differ- 
ence may end, Adelbert, you now are free. I 
demand nothing from you, save your word, that in 
the coming struggle you will lend no aid, neither 
open nor concealed, to those who have so eagerly 
proclaimed themselves my enemies. 

WEISLINGEN. 

Here I grasp your hand, and from this moment 
let confidence and friendship be between us, like 
the eternal laws of nature ! I now take this other 
hand, (turning to Marie, j and as a seal and 



Scene I.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 53 

token of my truth, I ask from you permission to 
possess it. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Sister, how shall I frame my answer? 

MARIE. 

According to the value you may set upon an alli- 
ance with your earliest friend. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

And according to the bent of my coy sister's in- 
clinations. Nay, you need not blush to own that 
which your telltale eyes betrayed so long ago. My 
blessing be upon your unions — let me join your 
hands. My friend and brother! — I thank you, sister; 
you can do something more than spin poor flax and 
wool. You have woven me a chain by which I may 
forever hold this bird of Paradise. You seem con- 
strained, Adelbert! what is there wanting to your 
happiness? I — am most happy — too happy. Ah! 
now my dream is well explained. I dreamed last 
night that I gave you my right — ^iron hand — which 
you held and grasped so tight, that you dragged it 
off roughly by the wrist. I was affrighted, and sud- 
denly awoke. But had my sleep continued, I should 
have further dreamed that, in the place of this cold, 



54 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act II. 

lifeless hand, you set me on a new and quickened 
one, as you have done this day. You must now 
away — your castle and possessions will require all 
your care for a brief time. The accursed life at 
court, and your long absence have, doubtless, sadly 
wasted them. Here comes my wife — she must be 
made to share our joy 

{Enter Elisabeth. ) 

ELISABETH. 

You all look strangely at me! Is there aught 
amiss? 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Nothing amiss, dear wife; — you have but to pray 
God to bless your sister, and my friend. They 
stand there plighted to each other. 

ELISABETH. 

So soon! 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Yet not unexpected 

ELISABETH. 

No — not unexpected — I could have well for- 
told it. Count Weislingen, may you always love 



Scene I.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 55 

my sister as you love her now, and make her happy 
as she deserves to be. 

WEISLINGEN. 

God grant I may! My life would else be worth- 
less! 

BERLICHINGEN {tO ElISABETH aud MaRIE.) 

A passing cloud must for a time obscure our hap- 
piness. Adelbert sets out at once for Bamberg. 

MARIE. 

Again to Bamberg! 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Yes, we have both determined on it. A free knight 
should never hold a doubtful course. He is openly 
to break the band asunder between him and the 
Lord Bishop, and then give thought to other mat- 
ters, which concern him yet more nearly. He must 
form new connexions with princes and with barons, 
whom till now he has regarded with a hostile eye. 
With my friends he can meet no hesitation — for at 
my word, their castle gates will all be open to him. 
But with others, it may be different. He must, too, 
wrest from the hands of faithless and rapacious 
stewards his long misused estates, and prosecute his 



50 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act II. 

claim to some contested services. Then will he 

quick return but come, sister, — come, Elisabeth, 

his page has, doubtless, now been fed and rested — 
and should speak with him. 

WEISLIXGEN. 

Will you not stay to hear the news from Bam- 
berg.^ 

BERLICHINGEN. 

I care not for it. Suabiaand Franconia, now are 
you nearer allied than ever! 

\_Exit with Elisabeth. 

MARIE. 

We shall see you at dinner, Adelbert? 

WEISLINGEN. 

Before, dear Marie — in half an hour — till then 
farewell — 

MARIE. 

Farewell ! [_Exit. 

W^EISLINGEN (cilonC,) 

Alas! 'twas easy, Berlichingen, to perceive con- 
straint in my demeanour, which seemed to say that 
something yet was wanting to my happiness! Be- 



Scene I.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 57 

fore you, I must ever feel my utter — utter baseness! 
An accursed word^ — but 'tis well suited to me now. 
The hand of fate is on me — I am entangled in the 
snare into which I have ever fallen, and though my 
struggles may be hard, I must sink still deeper — 
deeper. And then back again to Bamberg! Is there 
no help — no hope.^ There can be none — I am like 
a child who in a fit of wayward passion has dashed 
some costly bauble to the earth, and then stands 
weeping over its shattered fragments ! 

[Unter Franz.) 

FRANZ. 

God save you, my noble Lord! I am here again 
to serve you, and bring so many greetings with me 
that I scarce know w^here I shall begin. From the 
Lord Bishop to the Fool with his cap and bells, 
greets you the Court; and from the Burgomaster to 
the Night-watch greets you the city. 

WEISLINGEN. 

You are welcome Franz; — but bring you nothing 
more? 

FRANZ. 

You are so high in the esteem and thoughts of all, 
that I can find no words to tell you. 

E 



58 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act II. 



WEISLINGEN. 

So great favour will hardly endure long. 

FRANZ. 

Long as you live, my Lord ; and after your deatli 
it will glitter in gilded letters upon your monument. 
There was general grief and consternation when it 
was first known you were a prisoner. 

WEISLINGEN. 

What said the Bishop? 

FRANZ. 

He was eager to know, and his questions came so 
fast upon each other, that he gave me no time to 
answer. The news was brought him before I got to 
Bamberg, by Farber, the man-at-arms who escaped 
so well at Haslach. But he would be told all that 
had befallen you since you parted from him, and 
inquired with anxious fear, if in the struggle you 
were wounded. I at last found room to say, that 
you were safe and well — unhurt in body, and com- 
posed in mind ; and I then related with what knight- 
ly courtesy you were entreated here by Berlichingen. 
To that he answered not a word, but suddenly, with 
grave and distant mien, he signed me to withdraw. 



Scene L] 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



59 



WEISLINGEN. 

And bring you nothing more? 

FRANZ. 

The next day I obtained an audience of the 
Marshal of the Court. I begged permission to re- 
turn, and said that I would gladly be the bearer of 
despatches to my master, who would as gladly wel- 
come them. The Marshal briefly answered — "We 
send no letters to your Lord, because we trust not 
Berlichingen, who can well put on the show of 
truth and courtesy, but whose heart is false and 
treacherous." 

WEISLINGEN. 

They know him ill. 

FRANZ. 

"Yet," went he on to say, "we all rejoice that 
your good Lord is entertained at Jaxthausen as be- 
comes a knight. Bid him be sure that our endeavours 
to release him from captivity will be strenuous and 
impatient, because we are unable here to act with- 
out him." 

WEISLINGEN. 

They must learn to do so, shortly. 



60 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



[Act it. 



FRANZ. 

What do you mean, mj Lord? 

WEISLINGEN. 

Things are greatly changed, Franz. Without the 
endeavours of my friends, so strenuous and impa- 
tient^ my captivity is at an end, and if it please me, 
I may to-day ride freely forth for Bamberg. 

FRANZ. 

I pray you then, my Lord, let us set out at once. 

WEISLINGEN, 

To-morrow, early in the morning, we shall set 
out, but our sojourn at Bamberg must be brief. 

FRANZ. 

Our sojourn at Bamberg must be brief I Ah, my 
Lord, could you but know what I have known — did 
you but even dream of that which I have there be- 
held 

WEISLINGEN. 

And what have you there beheld ! 

FRANZ. 

The mere remembrance of it tingles in every 
vein ! Bamberg is no more Bamberg. An angel — 



Scene!.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 

a sorceress in a woman's form has enchanted and 
bewildered all our senses, and made us believe that 
we were dwelling in the courts of heaven! 

WEISLINGEN. 

A woman has done all this! 

FRANZ. 

By Heaven, my Lord, I will become a priest, if 
when you see her, you are not beside yourself! 

WEISLINGEN. 

Who is she then? 

FRANZ. 

Adelheid von Walldorf. 

W^EISLINGEN. 

Adelheid von Walldorf! I have heard much of 
her beauty. 

FRANZ. 

Heard of her beauty ! you might say as well that 
you had seen soft music. No words can paint the 
charm of such alluring loveliness. In her presence 
I stood entranced — bewildered — fascinated ! 

WEISLINGEN. 

You talk like one bereft of reason. 

e2 



62 



GOETZ VON BERLTCIIINGEN. 



[Act II. 



FRANZ. 

I may well do so — the last time that I saw her, 
my reason had no power to guide my wandering 
thoughts and speech. I felt as I have heard of holy 
saints in the moment of a revelation of the Divinity 
— every sense stronger — higher— more perfect, and 
yet the use of none! 

WEISLINGEN. 

That is strange. 

FRANZ. 

It was evening — I went to take my leave of the 
Lord Bishop, and the Lady Adelheid was sitting with 
him at a game of chess. He was very gracious to 
me — gave me his hand to kiss — and said a world of 
pleasant things, of which I could hear nothing. I 
gazed at but one object — and that Vv^as passing beau- 
tiful! Her hand was laid upon the king's knight, 
which she was about to move, and I would have 
given my existence to have been, but for one moment, 
that senseless piece of ivory! Her eyes were cast 
upon the chess-board, but enough of their thrilling 
lustre escaped beneath the long silken lashes, which 
so delicately fringed them. The rounded symmetry 
and unspotted whiteness of her bosom, with its 



Scene L] GOETZ VON BERLICIIINGEN. (53 

gentle throbbing, could all be seen through the trans- 
parent veil that scarcely covered it, while her dark 
shining hair fell in rich clusters on her neck, and 
shaded part of that beauty which 'twas maddening 
thus to stand and look upon! 

WEISLINGEN. 

You are become a poet, Franz. 

FRANZ. 

I felt then as I have heard a poet feels in the 
moment of his wildest henxj. When the Bishop 
had made an end of his courtly speeches, she sud- 
denly turned her eyes full in my face, and said — 
"Take also a greeting from me to your Lord, — one 
who desires his welfare though unknov/n to him. 
Tell him that new friends here look for his quick 
return^ who yet can scarce expect him to set value 
on their proftered friendship, since he already is so 
rich in that w^iich has been long and surely tried. " 
I strove to answer, but my tongue was motionless. 
As I stood thus silent and bewildered, the Bishop 
carelessly threw down a pawn beneath the table at 
which they sat. I stooped to pick it up, and in the 
hasty gesture, my face was for an instant pressed 
against her soft, warm hand, which then was resting 



(54 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act II. 

idly at her side. The touch darted through every 
nerve and vein like lightning, and I know not how I 
left the hall of presence. 

WEISLINGEN. 

Is her husband at the court? 

FRANZ. 

She has been four months a widow, and to divert 
her melancholy thoughts is now at Bamberg. She 
also seeks the Bishop's aid against old Wildenholz, 
who has seized some of her dead Lord's estates. 
You will see her soon. 

WEISLINGEN. 

Her influence over me, can be but faint. 

FRANZ. 

It is then true, what I heard whispered in the 
servants' hall — you are affianced to the Lady Marie? 

WEISLINGEN. 

'Tis even so, and I have too thrown oft' all de- 
pendence on the Bishop. I soon shall bid good 
night to Bamberg, and hasten to the new day which 
opens here so brightly for me. Quick, make ready 
for our journey! — first for the Bishop's court, and 



Scene I.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. G5 

then to my own castle in Franconia. I would not 
stay at Bamberg though your enticing Lady Adel- 
heid herself, should wind her arms about me, and 
strive to hold me back in her embraces ! [_Exit 

FRANZ (alone,) 

Let him once reach the Bishop's court, and his 
return need not be cared for. The Lady Marie is 
most fair — even beautiful — I cannot blame my Lord 
that in his wearisome captivity he should have fan- 
cied that he loved. Her soft blue eyes are full of 
tenderness and sympathetic melancholy, and he is 
always ready to be won by such looks in women. 
But with thee, Adelheid, is an atmosphere of life — 
deep-stirring beauty — burning desire and delight! 
-^I would — I am a fool, and every glance from 
her makes me the more so. My Lord must to 
Bamberg — I must to Bamberg, and there will I gaze 
upon her till my madness pass av/ay, or be confirm- 
ed forever! [_Exit, 



66 



GOETZ VON BERL[CHINGEN. 



[Act II. 



SCENE II.— SALOON AT JAXTHAUSEN. 
Hans von Selbiz, Carl. 

CARL. 

How shall I name you to my mother, noble Sir? 

SELBIZ. 

Say that Hans von Selbiz sends his greeting to 
her. 

CARL. 

Hans von 

SELBIZ. 

Hans with a wooden leg — Hans without care — or 
as you will, my whitehaired boy. 

CARL. 

These are merry names; — you are welcome, Sir, 
to Jaxthausen. [_Exit, 

SELBIZ (alone,) 

The old house looks just as it did ten years ago. 
There hang the cross-bows — there stand the well 
known silver goblets, which I so oft have emptied — 



Scene II.] GOETZ VON BERLICHmOEN. 57 

and there is the same worm-eaten tapestry. My 
homestead is drear and desolate, compared with 
this — 'tis hard work for me to shift along from day 
to day. ThingSj too, grow worse and worse, and 
but for the timely quarrel of Berlichingen with the 
long pursed Nurenbergers, I should have been at 
my extremity. — Here comes the thrifty housewifej 
to whom my lucky comrade owes all this comfort. 

[Enter Elisabeth. ) 

ELISABETH. 

Welcome, Selbiz! *Tis long since we have seen 
you here at Jaxthausen. 

SELBIZ. 

For that, your husband saw me the oftener with 
him in the field. He soon, I hear, intends to sally out 

against the Nurenbergers he does well. Those 

trafficking dogs v/ere richly bribed by the lying 
Bamberg to betray the messenger who went between 
us, and they must now yield up their ill-gotten 
ducats, in fair requital of their treachery. 

ELISABETH. 

My Lord sent George to bring you news of his 
intention. 



68 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act II. 

SELBIZ. 

And I am here, ready to march with him at once. 
The boy he sent was a bold spirit — I saw him then 
for the first time. 

ELISABETH. 

Did he find you at your home? 

SELBIZ. 

I was close by, with a band of merry comrades. 

ELISABETH. 

Came the boy back with you hither? 

SELBIZ. 

He rode further. 

ELISABETH. 

I pray you lay aside your cloak. 

SELBIZ. 

1 give you many thanks, but I had rather keep it, 
for the present. 

ELISABETH. 

Wherefore? Is the hall chilly? 

SELBIZ. 

Very chilly. 



Scene II.] GOETZ VON BERLICHIJNGEN. 69 
ELISABETH. 

An old and hardy knight is shivering in a cham- 
ber ! 

SELBIZ. 

I have some fashion of a fever. 

ELISABETH. 

It cannot be perceived. 

SELBIZ. 

To cover it, 1 wear my cloak. 

ELISABETH. 

The fever! 

SELBIZ. 

Shall I tell you why I wrap my cloak thus closely 
round me.^ 

ELISABETH. 

Without more ado. 

SELBIZ (throws off his cloak, and shows himself 
in a threadbare doublet without sleeves.) 

You seel I have been pillaged! 

ELIZABETH. 

Eyl ey! So true and bold a knight in such a 
doublet I What has done tiiis ! 

F 



70 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act II. 

SELBIZ. 

A set of most accursed and treacherous comrades 
— but in revenge, I have them here, thrust in my 
pocket. 

ELIZABETH. 

You speak in figures. 

SELBIZ. 

No — they are all here, tumbled on each other. 

ELISABETH. 

That is a riddle. 

SELBIZ. 

The explanation is not hard to find. (He throws 
a set of dice upon the table,) You have it there. 

ELISABETH. 

Dice! Your old fault still masters you, Sir Hans. 

SELBIZ. 

As the thread is spun, so must it be drawn and 
woven. 'Tis now too late for me to work a change. 

ELISABETH. 

And yet your gaming leads to certain ruin. 



Scene IL] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



71 



SELBIZ. 

It may do that, good wife^ but now I hope for 
better times. As I sat yesterday half naked, in this 
doublet, twisting my white and scanty hair, and 
cursing from my heart those four cornered rascals 
there, came your brave George, and brought a wel- 
come invitation from his Lord. I sprang up with 
joy, and, casting my cloak about me to conceal these 
gaping wounds of poverty, I hastened hither, and 
now shall we soon have money and garments, and 
rings and jewels in abundance. 

ELISABETH. 

But before you get them.^ 

SELBIZ. 

I must find credit somewhere. My order on the 
Burgomaster of Nurenberg should be worth money. 

ELISABETH (laUgMug. ) 

Without your order on the Burgomaster, our 
stores are open to you, and they are well supplied. 

SELBIZ. 

Careful housewife! 

ELISABETH. 

Speak freely what you want. Sir Hans. 



72 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act IT. 

SELBIZ. 

About as much as a child newly brought into this 
growling world. 

ELISABETH. 

All that you Avant is yours. 

SELBIZ. 

Not so.— Set a fair value on that which I may 
take, and out of my first winnings from the Nuren- 
bergers you shall be paid 

ELISABETH (laUglling.) 

So careful among friends 1 

SELBIZ. 

A true knight receives not a gift — he must de- 
serve all he receives. 

ELISABETH. 

And I can make no bargain with my friend. 

SELBIZ. 

Then must I fight in this poor doublet. 

ELISABETH. 

Go to! 

SELBIZ. 

I've found a way which may compose our diffi- 



Scene IT.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 73 

culty. Let us throw dice for all that I shall need. 
If the die be in my favour, then have I fairly won 
what you now offer; but if it be against me, then 
must you take my order on the Burgomaster. Come, 
and begin. 

ELISABETH. 

A true knight receives not a gift, and a careful 
housewife gambles not with dice. 

SELBIZ. 

Then lay a wager with me — a careful housewife 
may do that. 

ELISABETH. 

A wager,— good; let me hear what you can pro- 
pose 

SELBIZ. 

If our attempt upon the purses of these slippery 
Nurenbergers miscarry through treachery or bad 
fortune, and we return no richer than we went — 
then have I lost. 

ELISABETH (laugMng.) 

Your wager, good Sir Hans, is little better than 
the throw of dice. But let it stand — ^you need not 
fear to be a loser. 

p2 



74 



GOETZ VOJN BERLICHINGEN. [Act IT. 



SELBIZ. 

At all events, from this fair chance, I may hope 
to win enough to pay for a new doublet. 

ELISABETH. 

So poor a pittance will be hardly won, since you 
must wrest it from your enemies sword in hand. 

SELBIZ. 

Our enemies, trusty wife, ditterbut little from our 
other comrades. To-day they fight with us — to- 
morrow drink with us — and the next day they for- 
get us. Your husband comes this way — he seems 
in haste. 

ELISABETH. 

No more than he is wont — I'll leave you with 
him, while I go to make you ready for the Nuren- 
bergers. \_Exit. 

(Enter Berlichingen.^ 

BERLICHINGEN. 

God save you, Selbiz! my well tried friend! You 
are here in answer to my call, like a prompt and 
faithful knight. But, old Camerad, what means this 
tattered doublet? 



Scene 1L] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



75 



SELBIZ. 

You praise my promptness, and it should be 
praised, for a halting wooden leg like this, is sore 
against it. Mj haste to join you here, left me no 
time to change my doublet, so I am come without 
one. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

You shall have all of mine. 

SELBIZ. 

Your thrifty wife has gone to fetch me one. How 
happens it that the gallant boy who brought your 
message, rode further wiien he left me? We may 
need his service in our new adventure. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

I trust him altogether, and have sent him secretly 
to Bamberg, with a message to Count Weislingen — 

SELBIZ. 

With whom, I hear, you are but newly reconciled. 
I am glad of it, though 'twould seem your friend- 
ship was renewed a little of a sudden. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

And yet it was most natural to renew it. A 



76 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act II. 

strange affection for him was born with me — though 
he deserted me so wrongfully, I could not hate him 
for it. He was the companion of my childhood — the 
friend of my early days — his name and image were 
always with me — when I lost him, I lost part of my- 
self, which I longed incessantly to find again. He, 
too, felt the same, and soon as we met, our interrupt- 
ed harmony was restored, the past forgotten, and 
then were we happy and confiding as before. 

SELBIZ. 

What aid has he promised you in this affair with 
Nurenberg, and in those which cannot fail to fol- 
low? 

BERLICHINGEN. 

He will break off from all who are my open ene- 
mies — for that purpose he is now at Bamberg. I 
have at my disposal his influence with the Emperor 
and the Imperial Diet; but with our brave and 
faithful followers, we will alone maintain our sepa- 
rate quarrels. This have, we both agreed. 

[Enter Faxjd.) 

FAITD. 

My Lord, your men-at-arms are waiting for their 
orders. 



Scene IT.] GOETZ VON BERLICHIPTOEN. 77 
BERLICHINGEN. 

So soon returned, mj trusty Camerad! How 
many have you got together? 

FAUD. 

Twenty horsemen, and as many foot soldiers. I 
bring you, too, the news, that the caravan from 
Nurenberg, is already on its march. 

SELBIZ. 

They have set out betimes. 

BERLICHINGEN [tO FaUD.) 

What escort have they? 

FAUD. 

Ten Bamberg horsemen. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Away, then, to inspect their merchandise! This 
blow will be two handed, Selbiz. [_Exemit. 



78 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act TI. 



SCENE III.— A FOREST NEAR FRANKFURT. 

Two NURENBERG MERCHANTS. 
FIRST MERCHANT. 

Shall we rest awhile here in this pleasant shade? 
The wagons mount the hill but slowly. 

SECOND MERCHANT. 

I am content. ( Seating themselves.) "We are 
now close upon Frankfurt, without mischance or 
even alarm. How well could we have spared the 
charge and trouble of these noisy horsemen, who 
have devoured all our stores, and whose hire we 
were compelled to pay before hand. 

FIRST MERCHANT. 

Our merchandise is too costly to expose to any 
risk. The times are full of danger, and, moreover, 
it was wise in us to show the value that we set upon 
the Lord Bishop's favour, in choosing his retainers for 
our escort, when he is again at open war with the 
lawless Berlichingen 'Twas worth twice the 
money. 

SECOND MERCHANT ( Starting lip,) 
Look there, below! — see! What is that! Holy 



Scene III.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 79 

God I horsemen are dashing through the forest! Now 
they assail our escort — they make no resistance, and 
give up their swords at once — traitors I cowards! 
Now they stop the wagons — robbers! We are lost! 

FIRST MERCHANT ( Seizhlg Mm,) 

Down and be silent! Your clamour will destroy 
our last remaining chance. Close! and we may 
save our ransom. If taken, we shall indeed be 
ruined ! 

[They conceal themselves behind the trees. 
(Enter George, on the hack ground,) 

GEORGE. 

My Lord should not be far from here. The cara- 
van was scarce an hour's march before me. 

FIRST MERCHANT. 

Alas! your silly uproar has destroyed us! Here 
comes a soldier on our right. We are discovered! 

SECOND MERCHANT. 

No — look! He is not with the robbers — his arms 
are diflferent. Speak to him — help may be nearer 
than we think. 

FIRST MERCHANT. 

What seek you, noble Sir? 



80 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEIN. [Act II. 



GEORGE. 

Not noble Sir, my friend. I have no claim to 
titles, so I pray you give me none. I seek a caval- 
cade of knights and horsemen — have they ridden 
past you? 

FIRST MERCHANT. 

You have but to look below, — there they plunder 
our wagons, and take from us all our living! Help 
us worthy young man — we'll fill your hands with 
gold. You must have comrades with you, and if 
you are outnumbered, some stratagem may save us. 

GEORGE (aside.) 
'Tis he himself. (To the Merchants.) I am 
alone, and can do nothing with so many. 

FIRST MERCHANT. 

Then guard the path behind us, but for a moment. 
We can soon get out upon the high road above, and 
raise the country on the robbers. 

[77ie Merchants attempt to make off, 

GEORGE (drawing his sivord.) 
Stand on your lives! He who stirs is dead upon 
the spot! You are the prisoners of my noble master, 
Gotz von BcrlichinoenI 



Scene III.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



81 



FIRST MERCHANT. 

G()tz von Berlichingen! Then we are undone! 

GEORGE. 

Yes, my worthy masters, Gotz von Berlichingen, 
with the Iron Hand — whose messenger you first en- 
trapped, and then betrayed to his mortal enemy the 
false Lord Bishop of Bamberg. You are now in his 
power, and here he comes to settle with you. 

(Enter Berlichingen with Faud and Men-at- 
Jlrms,) 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Search the forest through — they must be hidden 
somewhere, for they mounted by the footpath but to 
avoid the sun. We are so near to Frankfurt, that 
one escape might bring a thousand bellowing burg- 
ers at our heels 

GEORGE (advancing,) 

My Lord, the work is done — here are your pri- 
soners. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Brave boy! You alone! welcome, welcome, a 
thousand times. {To Faud.) Take them with the 
rest. Keep strict watch — remember, the strictest 

G 



82 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act II. 

watch. (Exit Faud, with Merchants and Men-at- 
Anns,) And now, good George, speak! What 
bring you? What does Weislingen? Found you 
him at his castle? Are you returned safe and well? 

GEORGE. 

My Lord, give me a moment's time, 
joyful news. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

No joyful news! How? 

GEORGE, 

My Lord, hear me from the beginning. In obe- 
dience to your orders I wore the arms and doublet 
of a Bamberg soldier. I played the part boldly, 
and served as escort to some Reineck peasants up 
to the Main itself. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

In the Bamberg armour ! That was too daring. 

GEORGE. 

So I believe, now that 'tis done: but he who 
thinks before hand on the danger of an enterprise, 
will scarce conduct it well. I found not Count 
Weislingen at his castle. 



I bring no 



Scene III.] 



GOETZ VON BERLICfllNGEN. 



83 



BERLICHINGEX. 

I said you would not| he had much to do at the 
Lord Bishop's court. You then set out for Bamberg. 

GEORGE. 

I did — still in the Bamberg armour. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

You were again too daring. 

GEORGE. 

It fell not out so. In Bamberg I soon heard that 
the Lord Bishop and Count Weislingen were 
firmer friends than ever. There was, too, great 
talk among the people of a marriage between him 
and Adelheid, the widow of your kinsman the old 
Baron of Walldorf. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

The talk was idle. 

GEORGE. 

You have yet more to hear. I ventured into the 
Palace of the Lord Bishop, and saw your friend lead 
down the Lady Adelheid to dinner. She is beau- 
tiful — by that burning sun above us — she is beauti- 
ful I We all bowed ourselves before her, and when 
she thanked us, her voice and smile won every 



84 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act II. 

heart. Count Weislingen walked at her side — the 
fire of love was glittering in his eyes. The crowd 
made way before them, and murmured as they pass- 
ed, ''God bless them! a graceful pair!" 

BERLICHINGEN. 

That was not well. 

GEORGE. 

I waited and watched for him till he came forth 
from dinner. He was alone — so I approached and 
said — I am the bearer of a message from Gotz von 
Berlichingen. He started at my words, as if they 
were some fatal summons, and I read the avowal of 
his guilt in his changing countenance. He was 
afraid to look at me — even at me, a poor and hum- 
ble page! 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Speak on — let me be the judge alone! 

GEORGE. 

*'You wear the Bamberg armour," said he, bewil- 
dered. I answered straight — I -am the bearer of a 
message from Giitz von Berlichingen, and must 
speak with you in private. ''Come to me in the 
night," he said, and then he left the hall in haste. 



Scene IIT.] 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



85 



BERLICHINGEN. 

And went you to him in the night? 

GEORGE. 

I went and waited two, long, anxious hours in his 
antichamber. The silken pages there whispered 
together, and watched me from every side, till I 
thought I was betrayed. At last they brought me 
to him. Then I gave your greeting and your mes- 
sage, and saw that they were both unwelcome. At 
the first, he strove to put me off with flattering, 
empty words. But when he found I spoke too plainly 
for his purpose, he suddenly threw all disguise 
aside, and commanded me to return at once to him 
who sent me. '*Tell your Lord," he said, ''that the 
next time he shall make a prisoner of his enemy, it 
will be wise to hold him faster. He assailed my 
followers and seized my person as I was travelling 
without suspicion upon the high road of the empire. 
I owe him then no duty, and have broken no pledge, 
save that which was extorted from me in captivity. 
That pledge I now take back, and separate myself 
from him and from his violent deeds forever." 

BERLICHINGEN. 

And this you had from his own mouth 
g2 



86 



GOETZ VOJN BERLICHINGEN. [Act II. 



GEORGE. 

Yet more, my Lord — by Heaven ! he threatened 
me! 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Enough — this too has fallen upon me- God! 

GEORGE. 

My Lordl look not so wildly! Think no more 
upon the traitor and his treachery. I repent me now 
that I have so unwisely told you all 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Why is it, that when we have yielded to the 
holiest feelings of our nature, we should be thus de- 
ceived and shamed— while he who breaks his word 
and violates his plighted faith, finds favour and 
applause in the base triumph? Weislingen is now 
the crafty, ^skilful politician — the world praises 
— honours him. He has drawn himself safe from 
the net, which was so strongly cast about him, and 
he may turn and smile, as we stand here, gazing in 
weak confusion at the empty knots before us! 

GEORGE. 

My Lord, your presence may be needed with the 
prisoners and the booty — my Lord — I say the pri- 
soners and the booty! 



Scene III.] 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



87 



BERLICHINGEN. 

The only prisoner that I made with joy is fled and 
gone — the only booty that I cared for — the heart of 
an old friend — is lost forever! I held it but a mo- 
ment in my hands 

GEORGE. 

Forget him — he is not worth remembrance. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

No — I will not forget him — I will not forget his 
broken wordl No more can I believe in truth or 
virtue — no more shall I attempt to bind my fellow 
man by promise or by oath. All who henceforth 
come into my power shall be made to feel it. They 
shall be guarded with a tyrant's watchfulness — no 
prayers — no tears — no damned, smiling treachery 
shall ever free them ! 

(Enter Faud, hastily.) 

FAUD. 

My Lord, punish, but forgive us ! The merchants 
have escaped! 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Quick! pursue them! Shoot them down with your 



88 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act II. 

cross-bows — let them not get off alive. Quick, I 
saj. {Exit Faud.) Fetter all the rest-i-closely 
fetter them — and wait upon the heath there my or- 
ders for their death. 

GEORGE. 

But, my good Lord 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Obey my order! [Exit George.) These base 
born pedlars shall suffer for the crime and falsehood 
of their betters, and I shall have some vengeance in 
their terror and despair. 'Twould be well to pause 
— I am sore beset — darkness and calamity are ga- 
thering fast about me — ^yet thus far, my soul has 
not been stained with guilt before its Maker. Then 
shed not now the innocent blood ! It cries to heaven 
— and its cry is heard even at the throne of God 
himself! Yon trembling wretches have already lost 
that which they value next their lives — they have 
paid enough — paid dearly for all the evil they would 
have done me. Shall I too brand as ruffians and as 
murderers my brave associates in the holy struggle 
for our liberty? It must not be — so let them live. 
But why, Marie, is thy gentle form presented to 
me now.^ Thy tender, mournful eyes are fixed on 



Scene III.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 89 

mine, and seem to ask for him who was affianced to 
thee. Before thee must I appear with grief and 
bitterness — my hasty confidence has made thee, 
fair, innocent victim, unhappy for thy life — aye, 
unhappy for thy life I Alas! and in this moment 
thou knowest not what awaits thee — thou knowest 
not what has here been done ! Thou art now watch- 
ing for thy brother to return and bring thee news of 
him, to whom, in an accursed hour, thou hast given 
thy first — thy purest love. Thy brother will return 
—but thy lover, never! never! unless I drag him 
after me in chains, and cast him at thy feet, but to 
increase thy sorrow and thy misery — ill-fated child! 
What, Berlichingen, tears! Remember, there is 
now no time for tears. (^Enter George.) Bid 
Faud conduct the Bamberg horsemen, with a guard 
of twenty-men, to Jaxthausen, and wait there my 
further orders. Take you the other twenty, and 
march the tradesmen back on the road to Nurenberg 
— a league or two hence, set them all at liberty — 
the merchandise we have seized shall be their ran- 
som, Selbiz and myself 

GEORGE (seizing his hand and kissing it,) 

Thank Heaven, my Lord, you have not done it! 



90 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act 11. 



BERLICHINGEN. 

Faithful boy! Your master's honour is dear to 
you as your own ! What hold you there so tightly 
in your hand? 

GEORGE. 

'Tis a casket of jewels. Among the prisoners is 
a gallant youth from Rheinfels, who, as we were 
about to bind him, drew forth this casket from his 
bosom, and said, ''take this for my ransom, and let 
me go. 'Tis a bridal present which I was bearing 
to my mistress at the Frankfurt fair." 

BERLICHINGEN. 

A bridal present! 

GEORGE. 

He said yet more: ''She is the daughter of my 
father's oldest friend | we have known each other 
from our childish days, and she was soon to be my 
wife. Take the jewels, they are of the finest water, 
and are for me a costly ransom. I pray you take 
them, and let me go," 

BERLICHINGEN. 

And did you let him go? 



Scene III.] 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



91 



GEORGE. 

God forbid! We bound him fast — such was your 
order — and here have I brought the jewels, as the 
richest part of all the booty. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Let me look at them. 

GEORGE. 

There, my Lord I 

BERLICHINGEN (looMug at the jeivels*) 

Alas! poor Marie, I can have no temptation to 
bring these beautiful things to grace thy nuptials ! 
He who should have been thy husband hath faith- 
lessly abandoned thee, to riot in the arms of a lasci- 
vious lemani Yet, gentle, noble spirit, even in thy 
tears and silent, lonely sorrow, wouldst thou rejoice 
to make others happy round thee! So then, with 
thy soul, let me now act. Here, George! take 
back the casket to the gallant youth from Rheinfels. 
Bid him hasten with it to his bride, and bring her too 
a greeting from the iron handed Berlichingen. 
* [_Exit George. Berlichingen covers Ms face with 

his hands,'] 

end of act II. 



ACT III. 



SCENE!.— AUGSBURG— THE HOTEL OF THE BISHOP OF 
BAMBERG. 

Weislingen, Adelheid. 
weislingen. 
Still the same weariness and discontent. 

ADELHEID. 

Time drags heavily — I am restless as one in a 
slow fever. 

WEISLINGEN. 

Am I to believe that you are tired of my love? 

ADELHEID. 

Not of your love, but of this habit of daily, hourly 
seeing you. I could wish you were again at Jaxt- 
hausen, with the iron handed Berlichingen, where, 
you say, you would have been had I not held you 
back. 



Scene L] 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



93 



WEISLINGEN. 

It is too late for fruitless wishes ! 

ADELHEID. 

Too late- — you have said truly. Before I knew 
you, Weislingen, I heard many talk of you, and 
their report was such as gave me a strange — unused 
desire to see you. That desire 

WEISLINGEN. 

'Twere well, perhaps, you had not seen me. 

ADELHEID. 

No — Adelbert, for you won my love. 

WEISLINGEN, 

'Twould seem so. 

ADELHEID. 

It was as it seemed. But full soon there came a 
withering change. The bold and practised states- 
man — the ruling spirit in all affairs of weight and 
moment, was by some malign touch, transformed 
into a sighing poet, listless and melancholy as a love- 
sick maiden — sunken so low in apathy and indo- 
lence, that every call of interest and of honour 
passed unheeded! I felt the change — how deeply, 

H 



94 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act HI. 

you should know. Yet, with a woman's weakness, 
I fondly hoped that in a love like mine there dwelt 
a power to rouse you from this fatal torpor. My 
hope was vain — I should have spared my prayers and 
tears — they cannot move you: and now here in 
Augsburg, where you are summoned to this session 
of the Imperial Diet— so full of interest to all of 
Germany — you still hang about my garments — lin- 
ger in my bed chamber — slumber on my bosom, till 
I believe with shame, that I have given my ardent 
love to one who has no claim to keep it. You are 
no more the man to whom I gave my love. 

WEISLINGEN. 

Then let me go. 

ADELHEID. 

I have done you wrong — this outward apathy but 
conceals the workings of a hidden purpose. 

WEISLINGEN. 

You are bitter, Adelheid — ^you know what is my 
purpose. 

ADELHEID. 

'Tis far from its accomplishment. Nature seems 
accursed in wasting her choicest gifts on one who 
knows not how to use them! 



Scene I.] 



GOETZ VON BERLICfflNGEN. 



95 



WEISLINGEN. 

'Twere better we should part. 

ADELHEID. 

Stay till all hope be lost, that our parting then 
may be forever! Gaze not so strangely and so 
sternly at me. Clasp your hand once more in mine, 
and forgive what I have said in sorrow and in love. 

WEISLINGEN. 

Sorceress ! 

ADELHEID. 

Play the child no longer, and the scene will soon 
be changed. Should you be here among the Barons 
of the Empire, with all your talent and your power, 
the object of their pity and their sneers — the charm 
of your life destroyed by the open threats and scorn 
of a vindictive enemy? 

WEISLINGEN. 

Help me, then, you who sway my spirit at your 
will ! Fate hath plunged me into a dark — unknown 
abyss — I see the blessed light of heaven above me, 
but I strive in vain to reach it. 

ADELHEID. 

You shall soon be free, if you but dare to be so — 



9G GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act III. 

your fears confine you — nothing else. How long 
will you endure the life of one who hath come 
fiercely forth to fasten insult and reproach upon 
your name? Who, in the face of all your peers 
proclaims that you have done him deep wrong, and 
like a recreant fled — not from his revenge — but 
from his threatened chastisement ! Who, even now, 
makes wanton havoc of your fair estates, and mur- 
ders your defenceless vassals! You owe all this to 
Berlichingen — and yet you calmly bear it! 

WEISLINGEN. 

Should you be the judge between us? 

ADELHEID. 

And of me — the widow of his kinsman, Walldorf, 
and the wedded wife of the powerful Count Weislin- 
gen — of me — how does he speak? 

WEISLINGEN. 

Urge no more — I know what is before me, and 
if I have shown doubt or fear to meet the task, 
it is because some lingerings of truth and virtue still 
faintly struggle with an evil influence which leads 
me on to shame and ruin! Nay, frown not with 
such scorn — your will shall be accomplished, that 
I may once again behold in those dark, gleaming 



Scene I.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 97 

I eyes the kindling glances of consenting love. Here 
I bid farewell to gentleness and mercy — to all my 
early friendship and to every pleasant image of my 
childish days — memory no longer shall have aught 
of joy or grief for me. And now, away over the 
wild sea of passion and revenge! Let the ship dash 
upon the rocks, or drive a helpless wreck before the 
storm — it matters not. The cup of life will soon be 
drained of all its pleasure, and then, with one brief 
struggle, Hwill be well to sink to darkness and to 
rest! 

ADELHEID. 

You seem like one who has burst suddenly from 
the deep slumber of the gravel A fire is in your 
I eyes I never saw before. Come, Adelbert, now 
quick to the Lord Bishop, and with him to the as- 
sembled Diet. Remember, victory is a fickle wo- 
man — the prompt and bold alone can win her ! 

[_£xe2znt. 



h2 



98 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



[Act in. 



SCENE II.— IMPERIAL GARDENS AT AUGSBURG. 

The Bishop of Bamberg in conference with the 
Emperor. 

BISHOP. 

Your majesty broke up the Diet yesterday in haste, 
and many of your faithful servants feared it was a 
token of displeasure. 

emperor. 

It was — should we sit there to hear naught but 
murmurs of discontent and loud complaints of deeds 
of violence without the power to interpose and end 
them.^ The petty quarrels and dissentions of our 
Barons distract each session of the Diet, while 
against the deadly foe of Christendom, who now so 
fiercely threatens us with all his power, not one 
of you will stir a finger! Your trusted friend, Count 
Weislingen, chose no fitting time to bring before 
us the petition of those Nurenberg tradesmen who 
alleged that they were plundered by Selbiz and 
Berlichingen^ and yet you all, with one accord, 
maintained that they should have the full redress 
they prayed for. 



Scene II.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



99 



BISHOP. 

Our gracious sovereign would not require us to 
march against a foreign enemy, and leave our homes 
to the assaults of desperate marauders? We upheld 
the just complaint of Nurenberg, because the reck- 
less Berlichingen is the leader of a band of men 
whose long-continued outrage and defiance of all 
law and civil power, have now produced the evil 
which your majestj^ must charge to them alone. 
Every sword is needed in the daily conflict with 
these daring freebooters. Their strength is great 
enough to make them formidable, even to the united 
forces of the empire, and till they are dispersed and 
overthrown, disunion and delay must reign in all our 
counsels. But soon as their rebellious violence is 
repressed and punished, your majesty will see 
throughout our Father-land one bold and free array 
of valiant soldiers, eager to meet the infidel invaders 
who deride our faith and trample on the Holy 
Cross! 

EMPEROR. 

Do you believe it.^ 

BISHOP. 

It must be so. Suabia and Franconia alone yield 
open countenance and support to these disturbers of 



100 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act 111. 

the public peace, and even there, many of the nobles 
and the people long for tranquillity. Were Selbiz 
and Berlichingen once disposed of, all their adhe- 
rents would separate like a herd of startled deer, 
and return to their allegiance without a struggle. 

EMPEROR. 

Berlichingen is a true and noble knight. Many 
of his rash and violent deeds have been forced upon 
him by the wrongs and evil practices of those who 
now pursue him with such bitter enmity. We 
should be mild and gentle with him in this hour of 
need, that we may win his bold and warlike arm to 
strike with us in the coming contest, which will, in 
truth, require our utmost strength, 

BISHOP. 

Your majesty has been told that Berlichingen's 
name now sounds through Germany as the protector 
of the poor and the oppressed. Even his crippled 
arm has aided to increase his influence with the 
peasantry, for the iron hand he wears upon it is be- 
come among them a sign of wonder and of rever- 
ence. They listen with blind credulity to stories of 
his strength and daring valour. The most cruel of 
his actions seem praiseworthy in their eyes. His 



Scene IL] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. IQI 

orders act like a charm upon their boorish wills, and 
even 

EMPEROR. 

A subject, my Lord of Bamberg, whose ambition 
has such power to be dangerous to his Sovereign 
should be attempted with fair and peaceful measures 
before he is unwisely driven to extremity. 

BISHOP. 

Force can alone avail to quell the spirit of rebel- 
lion which by the machinations of these recreant no- 
bles is spread so widely through the lower orders. 
Discord and civil war, with their train of suffering 
and calamity is the sad alternative. The fire is 
smothered now, soon to burst forth in wild and 
sweeping conflagration! Yet at this crisis, one 
bold step may serve to quench it; and the recent 
pillage of the caravan of Nurenberg affords a fit 
occasion to lay the Ban upon the source and cause 
of all this evil. 

EMPEROR. 

Bring the complaint of Nurenberg before the 
Diet, at to-morrow's session. Let it be heard, and 
answered without strife or tumult; and if the out- 
rage can be fairly proved, the heaviest punishment 



X02 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act III. 

shall fall upon the guilty. Our wishes have been un- 
ceasing for tranquillity and peace in our dominions; 
but an old age of trouble and of sorrow we fear will 
prove the only fruit of long and anxious efforts to 
promote the public good. The hand that has so often 
gently warned and spared, shall deal a withering 
blow, if it must strike at last! 

BISHOP. 

Your majesty will have a warm response from 
many grateful hearts, for this last token of most 
gracious favour. The storm which hangs upon our 
borders may prove the herald of a dawn of light 
which shall increase in brightness till every cloud 
be swept away, and a calm sun of happiness and 
fortune shine upon us ! 

EMPEROR. 

Attend us to the palace. \^JSxeunf. 



SCENE III.— AUGSBURG. 

The Hotel of the Bishop of Bamberg. 
ADELHEiD ( reading a letter,) 
This is my work- — I have found it well to be 



Scene III.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. jQeS 

beautiful — the smiles of friends and fortune have 
ever been around my path. {Reads,) ''The Ban is 
laid at last on Wildenholz and Berlichingen — troops 
are ordered to march forthwith against them* His 
Majesty was pleased to hid me choose the command 
of one of the detachments, and I shall soon be in 
pursuit of the bold spoiler of your endowed estates, 
Franz stays but to bid you for me—fareivellV^ So, 
Adelbert, your fear to meet old Berlichingen face to 
face — ^yet are you bold enough. You fear to meet 
me, too, — and here comes the dark eyed Franz to 
make his Lord's excuses. 

[Bnter Franz.) 

FRANZ. 

Most gracious Lady 

ADELHEID. 

How fares your master? 

FRANZ. 

Well, though sad to be thus parted from you. 

ADELHEID. 

Who has the command against Berlichingen.^ 



104 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act III. 

FRANZ. 

Count Werdenhagen — farewell, best and most 
gracious Lady, I must follow my Lord in haste. 

ADELHEID. 

You should eat and rest before you go the 

march will be a long and weary one. 

FRANZ. 

I do not fear it — you have admitted me to see you, 
and I can neither tire nor hunger. 

ADELHEID. 

Bring you no parting message from my Lord? 

FRANZ (hesitating.) 
He commanded me — to kiss your hand. 

ADELHEID. 

There — ^your lips are warm, Sir Franz! 

FRANZ. 

My heart is yet warmer — I tremble — (aside.) 
Your servants, dearest Lady, are too happy in 
being near you. 

ADELHEID. 

You are trembling Franz. The sudden departure 



Scene III.] GOETZ VON BERLICHmGEN. |05 

of your master, doubtless, required you to watch all 
night. An hour's sleep before you start is needful 
for you. 

FRANZ. 

Your kindness, gracious Lady, cares even for one 
obscure like me. [_Exit. 

ADELHEID. 

That boy has formed a strange attachment to me; 
his eyes were filled with tears as he abruptly turned 
to leave the hall. Can it be? Yet no — poor child, 
he seldom dares to raise his glance to mine. The 
times are stirring as I could wish — another month, 
and all Germany will be filled with the tumultuous 
pomp of war. That month, it is most fitting I should 
pass retired at my husband's castle in Franconia. I 
am resolved — this very night will I set out from 
Augsburg to prepare in silence for the unknown 
events before me. \JExit. 



I 



106 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act III. 



SCENE IV.— SALOON AT JAXTHAUSEN. 

SiCKlNGEN, BeRLICHINGEN. 
BERLICHINGEN. 

Your proposal startled me at first, dear Sickingen. 
Give me a moment to regain mj self-possession. 

SICKINGEN. 

What time you will— but I repeat, that I am here 
to ask your noble sister's hand in marriage. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

I could have wished that you were sooner come. 
Now, I must conceal nothing from you. Weislin- 
gen in his captivity found means to win my sister's 
love, and I, confiding in his honour, gave her to him. 
Then I opened my castle gates and set my prisoner 
free. But he soon betrayed the friend who had so 
blindly trusted him ! He hath forsaken Marie — fled 
from her true and pure affection to scenes of vice, 
and deeds of darkness and dishonour! 

SICKINGEN. 

Is that so? 



Scene IV.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. JQ? 



BERLICHINGEN. 

As I have said — and the poor maiden sits alone, 
and weeps over broken vows and disappointed hopes. 

SICKINGEN. 

We will turn her tears to smiles. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

What! would you wed one thus forsaken? 

SICKINGEN. 

She is not dishonoured in my eyes because she 
hastily confided in a villain. Weislingen has torn 
a double band asunder — 'tis well indeed that you 
were not allied with such a traitor. Shall the gentle 
Marie bury her hopes and beauty in a cloister, be- 
cause the first man whom she knew and loved has 
proved unworthy of her.^ No, my proposal is the 
same, and I shall proudly make her mistress of my 
castle and possessions! 

BERLICHINGEN. 

I have told you that she loved him. 

SICKINGEN. 

Think you so lowly of me that I should fear to 



108 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act III. 

urge my suit against the mere remembrance of the 
faithless Weislingen? I am not over bold, yet do I 
hope an honest love like mine will not be offered to 
a heedless ear. Let us come where I may speak 
with Marie, and calm the doubts which now perplex 
my purpose. ( Voices without.) What sudden noise 
is that? 

BERLICHINGEN. 

I hear the voice of Selbiz — Some pressing need 
has brought him back so soon to Jaxthausen. 

(Enter Selbiz.^ 

SELBIZ. 

God save you, Berlichingen. Sickingen you are 
here in fitting time — your hand — I greet you both. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

To what good chance do we stand debtors for this 
visit, Selbiz? 

selbiz. 

Let me first draw a breath or two. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Bring you bad news? 



Scene IV.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



109 



SELBIZ. 

I bring bad news. We have confided in the jus- 
tice of our Sovereign, and now we are repaid in 
royal coin, for such becoming confidence as faithful 
subjects. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Speak out the worst. 

SELBIZ. 

The Ban of the Empire is laid upon you — your 
Castle given up to plunder, and your body to be de- 
voured by birds and beasts of prey ! 

BERLICHINGEN. 

The Ban of the Empire! Then am I publicly pro- 
claimed a bandit, heretic and traitor! 

SICKINGEN. 

Why do you dwell upon those names? You know 
that they are used in form, and are but empty 
sounds. Some plotting enemy has contrived this 
blow to crush you, and nothing now remains but to 
prepare and meet it with defiance. 

SELBIZ. 



You have no time to lose. The Imperial troops 
I 2 



] 10 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act III. 

headed by the' hot-brained Werdenhagen had instant 
orders to march against you. They think to take 
you unawares, but a party of my horsemen, whom I 
despatched, as we agreed, to watch the motions of 
the Nurenbergers, made prisoner of a scout four 
hours ago, and brought him in with haste. He dis- 
closed without a question, the plans and numbers of 
these hireling foes, because forsooth he thought we 
should be frightened to submission! They count 
eight hundred strong, and this very night you may 
expect them here before your castle gates. My 
followers are all in arms and wait your orders. 

SICKINGEN. 

And mine shall be encamped in Jaxthausen when 
the sun sinks behind these battlements. You said 
well, old Selbiz, that I was here in fitting time. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Hold, Sickingen ! I cannot now receive the aid 
you offer, nor should I longer listen to your pro- 
posal for my sister's hand. Danger is thick around 
me, and my friends must not be mingled in it. 

SICKINGEN. 

You have had reason, Berlichingen, to know me 



Scene IV.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 1 1 1 

better. Your words are such as I had never thought 
to hear from you ! 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Nay, misconceive me not, dear Franz. I have 
used such words, because you may befriend me with 
effect hereafter, if you shun all concern in this dis- 
pute, which threatens more than I need fear from it. 
I shall beat back the inexperienced Werdenhagen 
and his hireling soldiers^ or if I fail, the worst that 
can befall me, is to be made a prisoner. You are 
high in favour with the Emperor, and have both 
friends and influence in the Diet, which can serve 
me better than a thousand of your men-at-arms. 
While open, inconsiderate succour from you now, 
would scarce avail me aught, and might plunge us 
both in helpless ruin. Upon condition that you 
yield to these my reasons, I promise to advance 
your suit beside my sister, and shall with joy unite 
myself so nearly to a man whom I have trusted 
often, and who has never yet betrayed me. 

SICKINGEN. 

I yield at once — yet before we part, I fain would 
speak with the gentle Marie and learn her thoughts 
of one, who has known and loved her long and well. 



112 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act III. 

Then, whatever be her answer, I shall bid farewell 
to Jaxthausen, and send you here at sunset a hun- 
dred of my horsemen. 1 must not be hindered — 
without my arms or banner they cannot be known. 
Remember you count but few against so many. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

One wolf will drive before him a whole herd of 
timorous, flying sheep; — but I accept your offer, and 
there you have my hand to thank you for it. I left 
my wife and sister on the terrace — will you seek 
them while I talk with Selbiz? 

SICKINGEN. 

My words with Marie shall be brief — I doubt my 
fortune, now that I hasten to decide it. [_Exit, 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Why have you stood thus silent Selbiz? 

SELBIZ. 

I could say nothing. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

What think you of my conduct with Franz Sick- 
ingen? 



Scene IV.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 113 
SELBIZ. 

That we must fight the harder for it. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

You like it not? 

SELBIZ. 

I like it well. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Have you aught to say then to the Ban, so sud- 
denly laid upon us? 

SELBIZ. 

It is a blow from the hand of Weislingen. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Do you believe it? 

SELBIZ. 

I believe it not — I know it. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

How do you know it? 

SELBIZ. 

He was present at the Augsburg Diet, and brought 
before it a petition of the dastard Nurenbergers who 



114 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act III. 

prayed the Ban against us. Carl Altenstein was 
there, and heard him. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Well — then we are his debtors for yet more. 

SELBIZ. 

We are. (Trumpet,) My men-at-arms are filing 
through the court yard 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Let us go down to meet them. My trusty Faud 
must have my orders to marshal all my followers — 
he will require but an hour at the farthest. Sickin- 
gen's re-inforcement shall stay behind to garrison 
the Castle, and at sunset my banner shall advance 
against the standard of the Empire! Selbiz, 1 have 
long expected that I should be driven to this last 
act, which brands me for a traitor — it was to be ex- 
pected. But now, that the plotting of my deadly 
foes has arrayed me openly against my sovereign, I 
feel, 1 know that the fortune, and the honour of my 
life are marred forever! My little day of sunshine 
is gone and ended. The evening, which all would 
fain have calm and fair, lowers fiercely on me, and 
forbodes the coming tempest. It must soon o'er- 



Scene IV.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 115 

whelm me ! My name and line shall be extinguish- 
ed, and peace for me be found but in the silence and 
oblivion of the grave! ( Shouts in the court yard,) 
Hark! we are called! I have staid too long. 

SELBIZ. 

Gotz, give me that Iron Hand ! In life old Hans 
has always been united to you, and in death he will 
not be divided from you ! 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Away ! [^Exeunt, 



END OF ACT III. 



ACT IV. 

SCENE I— FOREST NEAR AUGSBURG. 
Bmid of Gipsies round a fire. 

GIPSY LEADER. 

Hist! heard ye that cry? 

SECOND GIPSY. 

I heard the midnight owl — naught else. 
GIPSY LEADER — (laying his ear to the ground. ) 
Footsteps upon the earth ! now away — ^now swiftly 
hither — they come — up! we shall have booty! 

MOTHER GIPSY. 

We shall have none. Thou knowest not friend 
from foe. 'Tis Woll^ — the storm hath driven him 
back. He went forth at sunset. 



GIPSY LEADER. 

Yet again that cry — what is it.^ 



Scene L] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 117 

MOTHER GIPSY. - 

Thou dost but hear the wind that waileth through 
the forest. See! the giant trees are bending to the 
storm. 

GIPSY LEADER. 

It was a woman's cry ! 

MOTHER GIPSY. 

Thou art deceived — there is no cry. Ha! Wolf 
hasteneth through the brake — we shall have food! 

GIPSY LEADER. 

Chide him — he hath staid late. 

[Enter Gipsy Boy.) 

MOTHER gipsy. 

Swarthy son — dark eyed son — comest thou at last. 
What dost thou bring.^ 

GIPSY BOY. 

A young hare, mother — there — and a field mouse. 
I am cold and wet — my blood is chilled. 

MOTHER GIPSY. 

Warm thee at the fire, son — the fire that burneth 
so brightly, and thou 'It heed no more the breath of 
the storm. 

K 



118 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



[Act IV. 



GIPSY BOY. 

The breath of the storm ! I heed it not. Between 
the rocks I mounted high, and there I found the 
rushing torrent and the snow^— yet still I mounted, 
and turned not back. 

MOTHER GIPSY. 

The night is wild and dark. 

GIPSY BOY. 

Then I crept down into the deep still valley — I 
crossed the ravine, and waded the swollen brook. 
The death lights glittered upon the damp and tan- 
gled bushes — yet I felt no fear, and turned not back. 

MOTHER GIPSY. 

Thou hast done bravely, my son. But wherefore 
hast thou staid so long? 

GIPSY BOY. 

The feet of horses came dashing through the val- 
ley. I fell quick upon the earth, and shouted, as 
thou hast taught me, till my voice was heard above 
the moanings of the wind. The horsemen were 
bewildered, and sundered liom each other; — one of 
them is lost. Ilark! he is here! 



Scene I.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. ng 
ADELHEID (witllOUt,) 

Help, holy mother of God ! I can support myself 
no longer — yet one more effort, and I may reach the 
fire which seems to glare in mockery above me. 

( Enter Adelheid. The Gipsies start up and sur- 
round her,) 

GIPSY LEADER (seiziug her hand.) 

White Lady — beautiful Lady — thou art welcome 
— thrice welcome. Whither art thou wandering? 
Come to our hearth — come to our table. Thou shalt 
freely drink and eat with us- 

ADELHEID. 

What frightful company is this? — (aside,) Let 
me draw near the fire, I pray you — I am very cold. 
We have lost our way in the darkness — my horsemen 
ride close behind me. 

GIPSY LEADER. 

Come, then, and have fear of nothing. I am the 
leader of this poor people. We do no harm — we 
dwell upon the bare earth- — we sleep upon the bare 
earth. We ask nothing from your Princes, save the 
withered leaves whereon we are born — whereon we 
die! Rest thee, white Lady, upon the hemlock 



120 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act IV. 

trunk beside the fire. A hard seat for thee — but 
there — thou hast the blanket which sheltereth me — it 
may prove soft even to thy tender limbs. 

ADELHEID. 

Keep your covering. — (Jlside,) I am lost. 

GIPSY LEADER. 

Though we go naked through the storm, we shiver 
not — though the hungry wolves howl around us, we 
tremble not — though the death lights bewilder us, 
and at midnight the Wild Huntsman dash over us, 
still we fear not — we know not fear. White Lady, 
beautiful Lady, wherefore shrinkest thou? This 
hand is swarthy, but it hath no stain of blood upon 
it. Thou art with those who will care for thee, and 
keep thee well. 

ADELHEID. 

I doubt it not. But send me forth some of your 
band, to seek my servants and my horsemen. I will 
reward you — richly reward you. 

GIPSY LEADER. 

They sliall be sr)ught for. Fear not, ^^■llite I^ady, 
they have not wandered far. I go myself to seek 
them. (Aside,) Ha! shouts in the forest. I will 



Scene I.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 121 

not lose her. Again ! I must be speedy. ( To the 
men of the Band,) Shroud up the fire towards the 
valley, and follow in the darkness. (To Gipsy 
Boy,) Let her be closely watched, but let no daring 
finger touch her beauty. Thou dost know me! 

[_Exit with Gipsies. 

MOTHER GIPSY (seating herself upon the hemlock,) 

Give me this bloodless hand. Look at me, white 
Lady, beautiful Lady — look at me well. I will 
unfold to thee the truth — the holy truth. 

ADELHEID. 

There is my hand. 

MOTHER GIPSY. 

Thou comest from the Court — thou goest to the 
Court. Princes and Lords honour thee and love 
thee. White Lady — beautiful Lady — I speak the 
truth — the holy truth. 

ADELHEID. 

You speak no lie. 

MOTHER GIPSY. 

Three lovers on this hand. The first thou hadst 

— the second thou hast — the third thou v/ilt have — 
k2 



1 22 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act IV. 

yet beware — he will destroy thee! White Lady — 
beautiful Lady — I speak the truth — the holy truth. 

ADELHEID. 

God forbid! 

MOTHER GIPSY. 

Children I children I fair children on this hand — 
like the mother — like the father — noble, fair I White 
Lady, beautiful Lady, I speak the truth — the holy 
truth. 

ADELHEID. 

This time your art has failed — I have no children. 

MOTHER GIPSY. 

Children, fair children on this hand — with the 
last, the fondest lover. Wliite Lady, beautiful Lady, 
I speak the truth — the holy truth. Fierce foes upon 
this bloodless hand — fierce foes beset thee. One 
standeth ever in thy path, and now he doth possess 
thee. W^hite Lady, beautiful Lady, I speak the 
truth — the holy truth. 

ADELHEID. 

Go on what of my foes? 

( Gipsy Boy suddenly scats himself upon the hem- 
lock. Melheid draws back,) 



Scene I.] 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



123 



MOTHER GIPSY. 

That is my son. Look at him, white Lady! Hair 
like the wild thornbush — eyes like the glittering 
death-lights. My soul delighteth in him. His 
teeth like ivory — when I bare him, I wept not. I 
laid him on my bosom, and he hath grown there 
strong and beautiful. How fond and fierce hegazeth 
at thee ! White Lady, thou dost please him. 

ADELHEID. 

Bid him begone ! 

MOTHER GIPSY. 

He will not harm thee. With women, fair like 
thee, he is gentle as a young and playful deer. I 
have taught him all my art. The water, it cannot 
drown him — the fire, it cannot burn him — the steel, 
it cannot slay him. Look at him, white Lady — see, 
thou dost please him! Draw back thy hand, my 
son, she is affrighted. Give us to buy bread, white 
Lady, we are poor — ^give us to buy bread ! 

ADELHEID. 

There is a casket filled with gold. ( She attempts 
to rise from the hemlock. Gipsy Boy grasps her 
nearer,) 



124 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act IV. 

MOTHER GIPSY. 

We would not rob thee — we are not robbers. 
Give us one piece of all this shining treasure for the 
truth we have unfolded to thee — the holy truth. 

ADELHEID. 

Take what you will — but bid your son begone. 

MOTHER GIPSY. 

He will not harm thee. I will teach thee some- 
thing more. Fierce foes are on this bloodless hand 
— fierce foes beset thee — one standeth even in thy 
path, and now he doth possess thee. Take this — 
my hand hath given it fearful power — there in thy 
bosom. Cast it in flowing water. The water will 
not change, yet he who drinketh must slowly waste 
and die — must slowly waste and die ! 

ADELHEID. 

(Aside,) I shudder. ( Gipsy hoy presses her in his 
arms — she struggles,) For the love of God unloose 
your hold ! 

GIPSY BOY (kissing her lips,) 



Thou art beautiful ! 



\_Melheid shrieks. 



Scene L] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 125 
(Enter Franz, with servants and soldiers.) 
FRANZ (rushing forward. ) 
'Tisshe! 'Tis she! 

ADELHEiD (sinking in Ms arms.) 
Franz! welcome Franz dear Franz! 

FRANZ. 

Best, dearest Lady! Fear nothing — you are safe. 
These wandering beggars — have they done aught 
that should be punished? 

ADELHEID. 

Nothing — their only fault was over kindness. 
Yon swarthy boy — ha! he is fled. His mother 
wrings her hands there — so let it pass — it was not 
much. I thought you surely followed, when my 
horse started from the beaten path ! 

FRANZ. 

I followed close — but, at my approach, the more 
affrighted, he dashed wildly on, and left us all be- 
wildered in the darkness. Then, of a sudden, we 
heard your voice above the storm, calling for help, 
upon our left. We swiftly turned to seek you, but 
scarce had we gone a step, when the whole valley 



126 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act IV. 

echoed with strange, unearthly cries, which seemed 
like yours! Perplexed and terrified, we hurried to 
and fro, like men possessed, till at the last, baffled 
and hopeless, we halted on the border of the forest, 
and gave you up for lost. 

ADELHEID. 

What men-at-arms are those? 

FRANZ. 

I plunged alone into the forest, and wandered I 
knew not whither, till my desperate shouts were an- 
swered by these men-at-arms, who from the adverse 
quarter were advancing towards this gipsy fire. Its 
light was hidden from us in the valley; and eagerly 
believing that we should find you here, I hastened 
back with trembling speed to rally my companions. 
We were not disappointed. But, dearest Lady, 
look at those soldiers once a^ain — their armour 
should not be unknown to you. 

ADELHEID. 

By this feeble, wavering liglit I do not know 
them. 



FRANZ. 

They are a remnant of Werdenhagen's scattered 



Scene!.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 127 

troops. Berlichingen has defeated the detachment 
which marched so boldly forth to overwhelm him ! 

ADELHEID. 

Count Werdenhagen's troops defeated ! It cannot 
be — I will not believe it. He outnumbered thrice 
the rabble of that iron handed ruffian. 

FRANZ. 

Speak, then, dear Lady, with the wearied sol- 
diers there. I know them well — they were a part 
of the Imperial Guard. Scarce fifty of the whole 
detachment have escaped. The Count himself is 
made a prisoner. Will you not speak with them. 

ADELHEID. 

No — I have no wish to hear their sorry story. 
Let us at once away for Augsburg. My Lord re- 
quired my presence in more fitting time than he 
imagined. Away, dear Franz! I owe a debt to 
Gotz von Berlichingen, which shall be cancelled 
soon, or all that I have won must prove deceit and 
mockery I 

FRANZ. 

The storm still rages, dearest Lady. You are too 
faint and weary, so soon again to meet it. Rest 
here, in this poor shelter, but till daybreak. 



128 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act IV. 



ADELHEID. 

At daybreak we must be in Augsburg. Nay, 
were the storm a tempest it should not hinder me. 
My horse cannot be far below — despite my weak- 
ness and alarm I staid till I secured him. Where 
are your own? 

FRANZ. 

They wait for us at the forest's edge. (Mother 
Gipsy approaches y and signs Franz to withdraw,) 
What means the hag.^ 

ADELHEID. 

Unfold my pages fortune — he is the truest of my 
friends. 

MOTHER GIPSY. 

White Lady, 'tis woven with thine own! (^Franz 
starts,) I have no need to look upon his hand. 
Smile not, ere long thou 'It prove it. Thou has- 
tenest forth to meet thy fiercest foes — they will en- 
compass thee on every side. Remember what I 
gave thee. So soon forgotten — 'tis in thy bosom. 
Ha! hast thou found it? Now, away at once — the 
time has come. Heed not the darkness nor the 
storm — ride on — delay may ruin thee. 



Scene II.] 



GOETZ VOJN BERLICHINGEN. 



129 



ADELHEID. 

Take this gold — you will not have it? Then give 
it to your son — the boy who sat beside me on the 
hemlock. 

GIPSY MOTHER. 

Thou hast escaped a greater peril with him that's 
gone. Forget his boldness and away ! 

ADELHEID. 

Give him the gold! Now, Franz, once more to 
meet the storm. [^Exeunt. 



SCENE II.— SALOON AT JAXTHAUSEN. 

MARIE (alone.) 

At last I am alone. They have left me for a mo- 
ment, and now I fain would shun the thoughts which 
wildly crowd upon me. There is no other way. 
My brother has been hurried headlong on to ruin, 
without one friendly hand stretched forth to save or 
even to warn him. I cannot be deceived; — alone, 
e must perish, and perish too proscribed — a bandit 



130 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act IV. 

and an outlaw! And will Sickingen's alliance so 
surely change his desperate aftairs? Why do I 
shrink or pause — it is too late! An hour hence — 
hark! the music sounds faintly from the chapel — 
'tis illuminated! The courtyard is lined with sol- 
diers — their armour glitters in the torch light — fit- 
ting guests at my ill-fated bridal! To-night! let me 
not think ! What have I done? What crime am I 
to expiate by such misery? Am I not stained with 
hidden guilt? Alas ! I know not what I say — I am 
not guilty. Safe in this solitude from the licentious 
tumult of the world — obscure, unknown, how inno- 
cent, how peacefully my young existence glided on. 
Weislino-en, where art thou now? Sunken in vice 
— the supple agent of a tyrant^ once my betrothed, 
and now — yet I upbraid thee not. Thy friend thou 
hast betrayed — basely betrayed thy friend. For 
me, it matters little — 'twill soon be over! (Trum- 
pet sounds in the distance,) What strange and 
mournful blast is that? It seems a distant trumpet 
which swells over the bridal music — a lonely fune- 
ral dirge! Again it sounds, and nearer? Someone 
approaches. 'Tis my brother and his wife, and — 
and Sickingen himself! I must away. Yet, a 
few more moments — and I shall be calm and silent! 

lExit, 



Scene IIL] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



131 



SCENE III.— COURT-YARD AT JAXTHAUSEN. 

File of Soldiers, with banners and torches. In the 
hack ground a Chapel, 

Faud, Peter, George. 

GEORGE. 

'Tis merry that we are assembled here as wedding 
guests. We soon shall be in other company. 

FAUD. 

Better for me. Our banners hang there dull and 
sleepy. How long before they'll wave above the 
castle gates? 

GEORGE. 

Not long. If Sickingen would give our foes the 
slip, he must not linger in the chapel. The saucy 
kerl who brought old Blinzkopf s summons, re- 
ported them a league behind — no more. 

PETER. 

I understand not this affair with Sickingen. He 
weds the sister of our noble Lord — yet at the 



132 GOETZ VOJN BERLICHINGEN. [Act IV. 

moment of our utmost need makes haste to turn his 
back! He will not even spare the men he sent when 
the fool -hardy Werdenhagen came against us, whom 
we could well have beaten back alone. Now we 
must fight at heavy odds. 

FAUD. 

Courage, old Camerad! Think you that Gotz 
von Berlichingen knows not the game he plays? 
For what was this alliance with Franz Sickingen? 
Shall we be long beleaguered by these braggart foes, 
when at his will he may surprise their open camp? 
Let him away with the Lady Marie — we shall hear 
the sooner from his men-at-arms. 

PETER. 

Has he so promised? 

GEORGE. 

Give way — the bridal train approaches ! 

(Music, Enter male and female servants of the 
household JJ Priest. Berlichingen z^z7/i Marie 
— Sickingen with Elisabeth. They cross the 
Court -yard and enter the Chapel. The Soldiers 
salute the train ivith their jiikes and banners. 
The music ceases.) 



Scene III.] 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



133 



PETER. 

A joyless company ! The Lady Marie looks a 
pale and mournful bride. Saw you not how she 
paused and shuddered at the chapel door.^ 

GEORGE. 

Young maidens ne'er are merry when they wed. 
The danger, too, around us, is cause enough to 
make her sad even on the bridal night. ( Jlside,) 
She still remembers Weislingen. If Heaven be just 
he will not be forgotten there ! 

FAUD. 

Our scout stays late. He should have brought 
us news ere this. The night is growing dark — it 
would be well to man the walls. 

GEORGE. 

You are in haste, old Faud. We have our sta- 
tions all assigned, and at the word can reach them 
in a moment. The Iron Hand is seldom slow to 
strike. 

FAUD. • t;-^ 

I have no need to learn it, yunker ! You were 

but a noisy brat when I first fought beneath these 

banners, which have been safely borne bv this old 
l2 



134 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act IV. 

hand through many a bloody field. How was it that 
our ambush was discovered, when we waylaid the 
traitorous Bamberg? My counsel was not heeded, 
or we should not now be caged up in the castle here, 
with prices set upon our heads, like rebels! Had 
we then caught the cunning priest 

PETER (at the chapel door,) 

They are about to leave the altar I 

GEORGE. 

Hark! a horse's feet! (Drums at a distance.) 

FAUD. 

The foe! — the foe! (Brums,) By Heaven, they 
are upon us! To the walls, my merry men! — 
Out to the walls ! Give back their shouts, and strike 
for Berlichinoren ! 

o 

( Soldiers rush from the Court-yard with shouts, 
Faud hastens towards the Chapel, Enter Ber- 

LICHINGEN.) 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Silence this clamour! I hear the threatening drums 
as well as you. They are still beyond the marsh. 
(Drums,) We shall have time to spare. (To 
George,) Is Hans returned? 



Scene III.] 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



135 



GEORGE. 

He rode just now beneath the castle walls. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Go bring his news. Be speedy — you must guide 
my sister and her husband, who leave the castle 
straight. The water side is open yet — you know 
the ford — once safe across, your path will not be 
hindered. Ride with them to Schwarzenberg, and 
wait there further orders from Sickingen himself. 

GEORGE. 

My Lord — leave you in this hour of peril? 

BERLICHINGEN. 

You will soon return — go — let me have Hans' 
report. [_£xit George. 

FAUD (aside to Peter,) 

You heard? 

peter. 

I did. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

What! fierce old trumpeter, are you lingering 
there? Away with your Camerad to man the walls. 
(Brums at a distance ^ and shouts of the soldiers,) 



136 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act IV. 

Quick — silence that shouting! Keep all still as the 
grave, and let no shot be fired till I myself shall 
give the word. [_Exit Faud ivith Peter.] So — 
the surly Blinzkopf thinks his conquest sure 
— he heralds his advance with rattling drums — yet 
is he sooner than I thought. Well, let him come — 
the odds may not turn out so fearful. Now for the 
newly wedded pair. 

( Enter Sickingen, Marie, Elisabeth, and servants 
from the chapel. Marie leans upon Elisabeth.^ 

SICKINGEN (aside to Berlichingen.^ 

Are we surprised.^ 

berlichingen. 

No — your path is open yet. ( Embracing Marie 
God's blessing be upon you, my true and gentle 
sister! A brother's love has watched over you from 
your earliest days, and now must it yield to one 
which is more near. Kiss me, dear child! Our 
parting should not be so full of grief! Carl waits 
at your new home to give you merry welcome. I 
sent him hence with Hans at sunset, that he might 
be safe from every danger. Speak to me, sister — 
Marie, I like not this silence ! 



Scene III.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



137 



SICKINGEN. 

I pray you let her tears have course. 

MARIE. 

I know they are in vain — so will I shed no more. 
Have you done well, my brother, to conceal from 
me how fearfully you are beset? Was it fitting that 
my bridal vows should be pronounced in an hour 
like this.^ We part from you, that we may send 
you succour — the only hope in your extremity — and 
will it not come too late? (Drums nearer,) They 
now are at the castle gates — I will not thus aban- 
don you ! 

(Enter George.) 

BERLICHINGEN (uSlde,) 

What do you bring? 

GEORGE. 

The foe is stronger than we thought — two thousand 
at the least. They are drawing slowly round the 
castle — at daybreak you may expect their first as- 
sault. The water side is open, as you thought^ but 
a detachment in advance has already crossed the 
marsh . 



138 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act IV. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Are the horses saddled? 

GEORGE. 

They wait at the southern gate. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Be ready, then. [_£!xit George.] You heard 
the news? 

SICKINGEN. 

At day break you shall hear from me. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Speak to your wife— I cannot move her. 

SICKINGEN. 

Dear Marie, our scout has brought us back a fair 
report. The enemy will make no assault till sun- 
rise. If we set forth at once, we shall have time 
enough. ( Drums nearer,) Need I say why I urge 
you thus to leave your brother? 

MARIE. 

The enemy will make tlicir first assault at sunrise! 
Can we not then stay here and die together? What 
w^ill avail our hurried flight? But add a few more 
years of bitterness and sorrow to these our weary 



Scene III.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 139 

lives ! Let me stay here, my brother — you will not 
drive me from you — Sickingen, haste — away with- 
out mel 

SICKINGEN. 

The die is cast — henceforth we part no more! 

MARIE. 

Sister, will you not speak? Why do you gaze at 
me in such dreadful silence? 

ELISABETH. 

My words may prove less pleasing than my si- 
lence. While you linger here, the only hope that 
we can cherish of deliverance, is passing from us I 
'Twere better far to save the friends you love from 
peril and from death, than vainly weep and plunge 
to ruin with them. [Drums — nearer, 

MARIE. 

Quick! let me begone— no more delay — Sickin- 
gen give me your hand — I am very faint. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

One moment. (Embracing her,) Poor, trembling 
child, by God's favour we shall meet again! 



140 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act IV. 

ELISABETH. 

She answers not lead her away. 

[Drums nearer. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

To the southern gate ! [Exeunt. 



SCENE IV.— RUINS OF A CHAPEL NEAR 
SCHWARZENBERG. 

In the hack ground Peasants, half armed with 
swords^ pikes^ and scythes. 

Metzler, Sievers, Link, Kohl. 

METZLER. 

Whence had you this news? 

KOHL. 

From Link here, who is just returned. At Augs- 
burg he saw the soldiers. 

METZLER (to LiNK.j 

Made tliey no stand at all.^ 



Scene IV.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



141 



, LINK. 

I know not how it was. They swore that Ber- 
lichingen fell upon them from behind, when they 
were halted for the night, not thinking he would 
venture from the castle. He fired their camp, and 
on the first assault they were dismayed, defeated, 
scattered in a shameful flight! 

METZLER. 

Selbiz was killed.^ 

LINK. 

He fell upon the field. 

METZLER. 

And Werdenhagen is a prisoner? 

LINK. 

With many others. But they boast that Berlich- 
ingen will soon repent this first advantage. New 
levies have been ordered, more numerous than be- 
fore, which even now are on their hasty march 
against him. [Link and Kohl withdraw. 

METZLER. 

So, Sievers, we could not have it better. Alone 
and unsupported, with the Ban upon him, old Gotz 

M 



142 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act IV. 

will scarce sustain it long. The nobles hate him, 
and the thrifty burghers, griping their purses, tremble 
when they hear his name. Our offer, then, will 
come like help from heaven. So hardly pressed, he 
cannot stand upon his rank and knighthood, and 
disdain to ally himself with peasants. We once 
were proud of his protection — 'twould be well in 
this last struggle for our sacred rights, to rally round 
him as a leader. 

SIEVERS. 

Count you so surely on our comrades? They 
have sworn to extirpate the nobles, and think you 
they will obey one of the fated order? They hate 
their very name ! 

METZLER. 

And who has cause like mine to hate their name? 
Have I forgot my Brother? They cannot hinder me 
— by heaven, they shall not strike a blow till Ber- 
lichingen is the chosen leader of us all! They arc 
not fools. What will avail our numbers and the 
justness of our cause? Our tyrants will despise us 
— hunt us like wolves — cut us to pieces with their 
trained troops — hang us from trees like rebel slaves 
and felons I You know it? But marshalled and 



Scene IV.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 143 

led on by one of themselves — a fearless, practised 
soldier — we may challenge them to open conflict — 
confront them face to face — not steal upon them like 
midnight ruffians! The Iron Hand will be a rally- 
ing word for thousands, who groan beneath their 
burning chains, yet dare not move to strike them off. 
The people so long, so fearfully oppressed, will start 
from their coward apathy, and learn their strength. 
Our cruel foes, vanquished by men whom, as their 
vassals, they have scorned and outraged, will be 
driven affrighted back to their dark holds of guilt 
and violence, which quickly toppling on them. 
Freedom shall be proclaimed throughout our Father- 
land! Dare you oppose me? 

SIEVERS. 

What need of threats to me? You know that I 
have cause enough to yield full trust to Berlichingen. 
Have you forgotten how he righted me with Wilden- 
holz? 

METZLER. 

You think my purpose fair, then? 

SIEVERS. 

I surely do. But how will you break the matter 



144 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [A.ct IV. 

to our comrades? If Link's report be true, it must 
be clone with speed. 

METZLER. 

It shall be done — to-night, at our meeting in the 
Chapel here. (Kohl suddenly advances.) What 
seek you now.^ 

KOHL. 

Max Stumpf sends word that you are waited for. 
He craves your presence straight. 

METZLER. 

He is in haste. {To Sievers.) You shall go with 
me — we will prepare him for to-night. [To Kohl.) 
Keep careful watch around. Seize all who pass — 
let none escape. At nightfall you may expect me. 
Now, Sievers. [^Exeunt. 



Scene V.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 145 



SCENE v.— AUGSBURG. 

Weislingen?s Hotel~MellieicV s Bedchamber. 

Weislingen, Adelheid. 
adelheid. 
Why was it not foreseen? 

WEISLINGEN. 

Foreseen ! Who could foresee that Sickingen, so 
cold and wary, would jeopard all his fortune to save 
a man proclaimed a traitor to the empire? The 
force was strong enough to make resistance hopeless. 
Beriichingen, daring as he is, pretended not to cope 
with it. His castle was surprised and stormed — 
himself a prisoner — ^his men-at-arms dispersed or 
killed, and our victorious soldiers, eager in plunder 
and pursuit, when Sickingen fell suddenly upon 
them with all his power. The issue — was what you 
have heard. Berlichingen now is building up his 
shattered walls, and by this cursed alliance may, 
for a time, at least, defy our eftbrts. 

ADELHEID. 

And the Emperor? 

m2 



14G GOETZ VON BERLICPIINGEN. [Act IV. 



WEISLINGEN. 

He is but the shadow of his former self — grown 
old and fearful. When we counselled instant 
measures to crush this spreading treason and re- 
bellion, he answered calmly, ''Let him alone — Ber- 
lichingen is no traitor. He has been harder pushed 
than was my purpose. While he remains in quiet at 
his castle, he can work no harm. He is too honest 
for intrigue and faction, like my chosen courtiers, 
and till he sally forth to cause more violence and 
tumult, he shall not be touched I" 

ADELHEID. 

Said he naught to Sickingen's assault upon the 
Imperial standard.^ 

WEISLINGEN. 

He called him the truest of his subjects — the 
friend of peace and order — the valiant soldier, who 
in the approaching hour of peril would be sure to 
bring his potent aid against the common foe of 
Christendom. Our gracious Sovereign, borne down 
beneath the weight of care and years, still presses 
with an eager grasp the gilded sceptre, which must 
soon be wrested from his lifeless hands. He fears 
the Turks — he fears the growing power of France, 



Scene v.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 147 

and is loth to hazard the support of any whom he 
may count among his friends. He will do nothing. 

ADELHEID. 

Are you content? 

WEISLINGEN. 

Content as you would have me. The peasants of 
Suabia and Franconia have broken out in open vio- 
lence and rebellion — they act with concert, and their 
numbers are increasing fast. Berlichiugen has been 
long their boasted champion and their idol. He 
dreams not that we are wasting time in feeble coun- 
sels here; and should he, to strengthen his defence, 
accept the succour which these rebel boors will haste 
to offer him, his doom is sealed! The nobles will 
make common cause a^-ainst him — his waverino; 
friends,' who still uphold his violence, will at once 
desert him, and Sickingen himself will be compelled 
to stand and see him perish. With this, fair Lady, 
I am content, 

ADELHEID. 

So then we must attend the pleasure of the boors. 

WEISLINGEN. 

There is no choice. 



148 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act IV. 



ADELIIEID. 

Sickingen has in sooth been generous in an hour 
of need. He was married, as they tell me, the very 
night of the assault. You have not spoken of this 
rare marriage. 

WEISLINGEN. 

Wherefore should I speak of it? 

ADELHEID. 

'Twould seem the Lady Marie has no intent to 
waste her youth, and pine and languish for a recreant 
lover; like a gay maiden, she soon has boldly won 
another. Methinks your fancy must have gone 
astray in painting her so full of tenderness and me- 
lancholy. 

WEISLINGEN. 

'Tis well she has forgotten one who knew not how 
to prize her innocence and truth. The faitli she 
now has plighted to her husband will be surely kept. 
The smiles and whispers of malignant fools will 
never touch his honour. 

ADELHEID. 

Touch they yours, Count Wcislingen.^ 



ScejjeV.] GOETZ von BERLICHINGEN. 149 



WEISLINGEN. 

Touch they mine! The Anchduke grows so heed- 
less and so pressings that he must purpose to make 
trial of my dutiful endurance. 

ADELHEID. 

And my deportment! 

WEISLINGEN. 

You are a woman — you can hate none who court 
your smiles. 

ADELHEID. 

The way to satisfy these doubts.^ 

WEISLINGEN. 

'Tis easy — quit the Court. In this time of war 
and violence you should retire for safety to my 
castle. 

ADELHEID. 

Whence 1 was summoned with such pressing 
haste, to calm perchance a base suspicion like that 
which now dishonours me ! I should do well, indeed, 
to follow thus the beck and bidding of a jealous 
fancy, which has of late harassed my life, and which 
my weak submission has but served to aggravate ! 



1 50 COETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act IV. 

I will not quit the Court! Naj, yet a word more. 
The Emperor's strength is sinking fast — 'tis plain 
the hand of death is on him. My Lord of Bamberg 
and his dependent friends^ though they so long have 
swayed the Imperial counsels, have failed in their 
intrigues against the young Archduke. The hopes 
and choice of all now rest upon him. He must suc- 
ceed his kinsman, and then your dream of power is 
ended! Thwarted in every plan, when you had 
thought success within your grasp — dreading the 
future — hating the past — stung with remorse, and 
wanting all manly fortitude, you poorly turn and 
vent your bitterness on me, because forsooth I am 
compelled to bear it! The foul aspersion which you 
here have cast upon me, I answer with the scorn it 
merits^ but trust me, Weislingen, it shall not be 
forgotten ! 

WEISLINGEN. 

Adelheid, no more! The bell is tolling for the 
Council, the last to which 1 may be called — my an- 
swer must be brief. To make you mine, I have 
plunged deep in guilt — scolfed at all truth and vir- 
tue — broken my plighted word — betrayed a gene- 
rous fi iend, plotted against his lile, and set a dark 
and damning stain upon my soul! Possession of 



Scene V.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 151 

your beauty has not dulled the wild desires with 
which it first inflamed me. I have won you at a 
fearful cost, and at a cost more fearful yet I am re- 
solved to keep you. I trust you not — you mean to 
play me false. I can no longer cling even to dis- 
tracting doubt— you will not quit the Court! Now 
mark me well. The hour in which my jealous 
watch shall come upon the frailest proof of your 
disloyalty, will fix my desperate purpose, and cut 
short your subtle schemes. The guilt of such a 
treason will be your's alone — on you alone shall fall 
the punishment. No power — no device can save 
you. I have madly staked my life and fortune on 
your truth, and all shall be destroyed together! Be 
warned, if you would live. \_Exit, 

ADELHEID {aloue. ) 

One standeth ever in thy path, and now he doth 
possess thee — the gipsy prophecy was strangely like 
the truth. Hal I had forgot the gipsy remedy! 
Footsteps in the corridor ! Who is it ventures here 
so boldly? 'Tis Franz, my only anchor in this storm 
which threatens to engulf me. 

[Enter Franz.) 

FRANZ (looking around and drawing a letter from 
his bosom.) 



152 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act IV. 

A letter, gracious Lady. 

ADELHEID. 

From the Archduke? 

FRANZ. 

From the Archduke. 

ADELHEID. 

He gave it you himself ? 

FRANZ. 

He gave it me himself. 

ADELHEID (rcads the letter— -Yra^z fixes Ms eyes 
gloomily upon her face.) 

The chances seem to turn against me — I am 
hard beset, [aside,) Dear Franz, wherefore so 
sorrowful.^ 

FRANZ. 

I am not sorrowful. 

ADELHEID. 

Nay, tell me all your grief — you know how well 
I love you. 



Scene V.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



153 



FRANZ. 

And yet I am condemned to pass the weary hours 
in vain and lingering hope! 'Twere better 1 should 
die at once! 

ADELHEID. 

Inconstant boy! It is not long since you found 
happiness enough in being near me. Why are you 
thus ungrateful.^ Must you have golden earnest to 
secure your love and truth.^ 

FRANZ. 

My God! there is no drop of blood in these my 
throbbing veins I would not freely shed to prove my 
blind devotion to your will ! I have no thought, no 
sense, but for my maddening passion — no fear — no 
joy that is not twined about your image. And thus 
I am rewarded! 

ADELHEID. 

Dear Franz, upbraid me not — my words were 
hasty — I meant not to wound you. 

FRANZ (hur sting into tears.) 

The Archduke, Lady Adelheid, the young Arch- 
duke. You fan the flame which must full soon de- 
stroy me, that I may lead you to his hateful arms ! 

N 



154 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act IV. 

ADELHEID. 

Franz! do you forget to whom you speak? 

FRANZ ( seizing the letter and stamping upon it with 
his feet,) 

I can endure no more- 1 will no longer play the 

pandering miscreant! 

ADELHEID. 

Franz, you are mad ! 

FRANZ. 

To compel me, with such double treachery, thus 
to sacrifice my noble Lord ! 

ADELHEID. 

Begone, weak changeling! Go and betray my se- 
cret to your noble Lord, I was a fool to count upon 
your truth, and yield myself so blindly to your 
power. Go and betray me! 

FRANZ. 

Betray you ! I said not that — I meant not that. 
(Falling at her feet,) Forgive me, dearest Lady — 
my senses are bewildered — I know not what I say. 

ADELHEID ( raising him zcith both hands, and draw- 
ing him gentltj toivards her,) 
Dear, warm-hearted boy! 



Scene v.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 155 
FRANZ (starts up^ and joresses her in his arms,) 
God in heaven! 

ADELHEID. 

Leave me — the walls are traitors. Leave me, 
dear Franz — some one approaches! We shall be 
seen! (Breaking from him.) Change not in your 
love, and a fair reward shall soon be yours! [_Exit, 

FRANZ (alone,) 

Jl fair reward shall soon he yours! But, till that 
hour let me live. My father's gray hairs should 
not save him, dared he to stand now in my path, 
and warn me back ! [Exit, 



END OF ACT FOURTH. 



ACT V. 

SCENE I.— SCHWARZENBERG. 

The rebel Peasants are sacking the town. Men, 
women and children are flying in different direc- 
tions. In the distance Schivarzenherg Castle is 
seen burning. 

OLD MAN. 

To the forest, to the forest for your lives ! The 
blood hounds are close upon us! 

WOMAN. 

Holy God! the flames mount up to heaven! The 
smoke blackens the setting sun! 

OLD MAN. 

Linger not to look back. (Shouts.) Hark! they 
come! Woe is me, my palsied limbs sink down be- 
neath me. I must stay here and die. 

WOMAN. 

Nay, lean on me. We liavc but to reach the 



Scene I.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 157 

brow of yonder hill ( Shouts — nearer.) One effort 
more — away! 

(Enter Link, Sievers, Kohl, and armed Peasants,) 

LINK. 

The place is ours! Spare none. Kill those who 
fight and those who fly. Plunder the town through- 
out, and then set faggots to the doors, and let the 
flames destroy what w^e have left! 

\_Exeunt Kohl and Peasants, with shouts, 

SIEVERS. 

Are these the orders Metzler gave you? 

LINK. 

They are my own. Metzler led on the assault 
against the castle. You see it burning there — a 
fiery signal, which we must liaste to answer. 

SIEVERS. 

My God! the oath is broken then we swore to 
Berlichingen ! 

LINK. 

I swore no oath to him. Let the old Iron Hand 

rue his bargain ! He has given us the start for which 

we chose him. What need we care for oaths? We 
n2 



1 58 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act V. 

can fight our way without him. (Shouts.) Ha! 
here is Metzler with his chosen band. Now, you 
shall hear what are his orders I 

( Enter Metzler, with Peasants.) 

METZLER. 

I have Otto von Schwarzenberg! 

LINK. 

Count Schwarzenberg! He left the castle at day- 
break. You have him not. 

METZLER. 

I have Otto von Schwarzenberg! My brother he 
condemned to die a dreadful A^dii\\—famine-— famine 
— and despair! I have him now. 

SIEVERS. 

You will not slay him.^ 

METZLER. 

When yonder sun, which sinks behind that cloud 
of smoke and fire, shall come again to wake the 
sleeping earth, its early rays shall fall upon one 
scene of woe and desolation, and the murderer's soul 
shall be — where meicy cannot find it! 



Scene I.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



159 



SIEVERS. 

You swore with me to shed no blood, save in the 
open field. And dare you 

METZLER. 

Old man, stand not between me and my ven- 
geance ! I have a vow in heaven more sacred than 
my oath to Berlichingen, Otto von Schwarzenberg 
seized my wretched brother, and thrust him bound 
with chains into the dungeons of his castle, because 
to feed the hunger of his famished children, he slew 
a wandering deer within the limits of the forest! 
We all came and cried for mercy. I knelt before 
the tyrant — clasped his knees, and prayed him by 
the love of God to spare my only brother! He stood, 
the monster, like a fiend of hell, and mocked our 
anguish and our tears! He dashed his iron glove 
into my suppliant face, and while my blood poured 
from the ghastly wound, he fiercely shouted forth — 
''Hence, begone base hinds! I brook your insolence 
no longer. In that dungeon shall the robber die a 
living death — despair and famine shall consume 
him, I swear it by this sword!" Then was there 
no more a God in heaven for me, and now shall 
there be none for him ! 



IGO 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



[Act V. 



SIEVERS. 

Have mercy. 

METZLER. 

Mercy! name not the word! My brother's dun- 
geon was even with the ground. I came by night, 
and laid my ear upon the damp and rugged wall. I 
heard him groan and cry, and clash his heavy chains, 
and vainly call on God to save him! I answered, 
but he heard me not. Five nights I came, and as I 
marked his cries grew fainter, with my bleeding 
hands I madly tore the sharp and senseless stones, 
and gnashed upon them with my teeth! The sixth, 
I heard no more — no groan — no cry — no clashing of 
his chains. I listened in the silent night to hear my 
brother's groans, as a young maiden listens from her 
casement for the gentle whispers of her lover. — 
But I heard no more — death was still! Then I fell 
upon the earth, and called down curses — hot, damn- 
ing curses on the whole murderous race. I raised 
my hands to heaven and swore to give my soul no 
rest, till in the hour that Otto von Schwarzenberg 
should kneel to me, and pray for mercy, as I had 
knelt and prayed to him. That hour has come! 



Scene II.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. IQl 
[Unter Kohl.) 

KOHL. 

The town is fired! No place holds out against 
us. Schwarzenberg will be soon a smoking ruin I 

METZLER. 

Down with it in the dust! Let the cursed name 
no more be heard upon the earth! (wresting a pike 
from one of the peasants.) Now for the murderer I 
Stand back ye hounds — away, burn and destroy! 
This work is mine alone. No hand but mine shall 
do this deed — no eye but mine shall see his dying 
struggles. My vengeance shall be full, and alone 
will I enjoy it! [^Exeunt. 



SCENE II.— ADELHEID'S CASTLE. 

Night, — MelheicVs Bedchamber, 
Adelheid, Pranz. 
adelheid. 

Still — listen! Silence reigns throughout. Sleep 
hath cast her leaden mantle over all. The light is 



162 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act V. 

waning in the watch-tower. Now, away, dear Franz 
— to horse, away, away! 

FRANZ. 

Oh! let me linger. Let me thus wind my arms 
about thee. Canst thou now drive me from thee — 
forth from the light which beameth round thee into 
the dull and gloomy night — the unfriendly darkness? 

ADELHEiD [opeulng the casement.) 

Darkness is not without. The pale moon is high. 
Bright as the day, I see the path that leads down 
from the castle gate. The mossy rocks are sleeping 
in the moonlight, and the distant mountains seem 
silvered with the beams of heaven. Away ! through 
the still and lovely night — to the deed which is now 
before thee ! 

FRANZ. 

So soon, I cannot leave thee. Let me stay here, 
where dwells my life. Alas! without is fear and 
death ! 

ADELHEID. 

Quick, stripling, softly away! Dost thou still 
linger? ITow! arc thy desires withered? Is thy 
oath — tliy purpose grown a bnrthen to thee? 



Scene II.] 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



163 



FRANZ. 

Not looks — not words like these. 

ADELHEID. 

Where hast thou the Gipsy flask? Thou wilt 
again betray me. Here ! I will have it back ! 

FRANZ. 

Betray thee ! 

ADELHEID. 

Give back the flask. Thou art a boy — a weak — 
a wavering boy ! 

FRANZ. 

Again betray thee, saidst thou? ^ 

ADELHEID. 

Since thou art bold enough to seek the love of 
woman, thou shouldst be taught what must be given 
in pledge to win it. Life, honour, virtue, peace — 
are they aught to thee? Leave me, thou lovest me 
not! 

FRANZ. 

I will not leave thee. 

ADELHEID. 

Are those moments gone in which thou didst 



164 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act V. 

believe me wholly thine? When no dark shade was 
mingled with the transport of our lover Dear Franz, 
are doubt and fear so soon returned — am I not 
thine? 

FRANZ. 

Yes, thou art mine! And when I free thee from 
this threatening death, I free thee for myself. Let 
me away. Now is my purpose settled. Here is the 
flask — with steady hand will I pour this fearful poi- 
son in his cup! 

ADELHEID. 

Still! speak it not out! 

FRANZ. 

Wherefore should I fear? My ears shall hear 
that which my soul is now resolved to do. AYhen 
he drinks, I will not turn away — I will not shudder. 
Even in his agony will I calmly stand, and gaze 
upon him. There was but one reward in all the 
earth for such a deed, and that reward is mine! 

ADELHEID. 

Away ! 

FRANZ. 

Farewell! (Emhracing her,) A spell is laid 
upon me. I cannot stir! 



Scene II.] 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



165 



ADELHEID. 

Delay another moment, and thou wilt come too 
late! 

FRANZ ( suddenly breaking from her.) 

Ha! that word no more! I will not come too 
late. ( ^gain embracing her,) Farewell — perchance 
we part forever ! [Exit, 

ADELHEID (alone.) 

Unhappy boy! still dost thou toy and trifle, and 
sport upon the waves which in their fury soon must 
overwhelm thee. There is no hope for thee! Hark! 
he is already on his way — his horse's hoofs are ring- 
ing through the court-yard. (M the casement.) 
With what speed he hastens on his fatal errand! 
The moon shines brightly in the heaven, as if to 
light the path before him. Now he halts and waves 
his hand — and now is he lost among the rocks that 
overhang the valley. He is beyond recall! Weis- 
lingeii, scarce hast thou signed the death-warrant 
of thy ancient friend, before thine own is sped 
against thee! There seems strange justice in the 
deed.' — How calm, how beautiful is the night! Deep, 
holy silence broods like a spirit over this lonely, 

tranquil hour, which should bring love and peace to 
o 



106 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act V. 

all who watch. And yet for me — let me to sleep, 
if that my weary eyes shall e'er again be closed. I 
cannot long endure these wild and wasting passions. 
And where shall I turn for rest? But to oblivion — 
darkness — death ! [_Exit, 



SCENE III.— SALOON AT JAXTHAUSEN. 

Elisabeth, Faud. 

FAUD. 

God save you in this hour of misery I The Lady 
Marie is arrived. 

ELISABETH. 

She cannot save him. 

FAUD. 

She can, and will. 

ELISABETH. 

Is he not joined with base-born rebels.^ Thrust 
into a common prison with ruflians and with mur- 
derers, at whose head he madly stood, as if he were 



Scene III.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 157 

a traitor to his Order and his Sovereign? His gray 
hairs must come down dishonoured to the grave ! 

FAUD. 

That bloodhound, Metzler, broke his solemn 
compact. My noble Lord cannot be made to an- 
swer for his atrocious deeds. The Commission 
found no proof against him. 

ELISABETH. 

Wherefore is he condemned to die? 

FAUD. 

Because his bitterest enemies sat in judgment on 
him. But trust me, gracious Lady, he will be 
saved. The Emperor has good cause to love the 
house of Berlichingen, and think you that Count 
Weislingen will refuse the suit of Lady Marie? 
Metzler and his hellish band have met their doom. 
The Imperial Council have no need of further ven- 
geance — they think not of it. Your kinsman, Sick- 
ingen, had scarcely asked before they gave me liberty 
and sent me hither to bring you free permission of 
admittance to your husband's prison. Come — cast 
aside your grief. Speak with the Lady Marie. 
Despatch her on her pious errand, and then may we 
haste with hope and comfort to my Lord. 



1(39 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act V. 



ELISABETH. 

Alas! old man, what comfort can we bring him? 
His goodly heritage is plundered by insulting foes 
—his father's house is made a garrison of hostile 
soldiers — his men-at-arms are killed or prisoners — 
his faithful George, whom he loved next his son, is 
dead, and he himself condemned and infamous, 
covered with wounds, worn out with grief and suf- 
fering, is waiting, like a felon, for the headsman's 
axe to end his life and woes together! The misery 
is too great — you feel it not as I do. 

FAUD. 

Have trust in God. 

ELISABETH. 

His hand is heavy on us. I cannot pray for 
mercy. 

FAUD. 

Nay, you do not well, thus to refuse my counsel. 
My Lord will fear I have deserted him. I can de- 
lay no longer. 

ELISABETH. 

Where is my sister? 



Scene IV.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN, jgg 
FAUD. 

In the hall below. 

ELISABETH. 

Lead me to her. [^Exeunt, 



SCENE IV.— CHAMBER IN WEISLINGEN'S CASTLE. 
WEISLINGEN (aloYlB,) 

In vain 1 drag my restless limbs from room to 
room. I bear this achino; torment ever with me! 
A burning fever rages in my blood. All my bones 
seem hollow — their very marrow scorched and 
withered! Let me sit here and court a moment's 
respite from a misery which ere long must end me. 
( Seating himself, and then starting up,) No rest, 
day nor night. In broken slumbers — frightful 
dreams. Darkness and sleep bring terror to my 
soul. I start and wake, and cry to heaven for mercy 
— where there is none ! We have no power upon 
our wills. Spirits of Evil sway us at their plea- 
sure, and deride our agony when we are driven to 

ruin and despair. Faint — faint! The fever 'sgone! 
o2 



170 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act V. 

My hands are cold — the room is swimming round 
me! It must be 

(Enter Franz, hastily,) 

FRANZ. 

My Lord — great heaven, -he faints! So soon — I 
was betrayed, then! Speak^ my Lord. 'Tis Franz 
— your faithful' — the traitor, Franz. 'Tis your mur- 
derer calls you! But open those dying eyes, and I 
will tell you all ! He revives, and grasps my hand. 
Are you better, my Lord.^ 

WEISLINGEN. 

Yes, strangely better. Give me your hand, and 
let me walk awhile. So — I shall now do well. 
What was it brought you here so opportunely? 

FRANZ. 

A lady, with a single servant, is at the castle gate, 
and craves to speak with you. 

WEISLINGEN. 

I am too ill — I cannot see her. 

FRANZ. 

Her business, as she says, is urgent. She entreats 
your fiivour but for a moment. 



Scene IV.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 



171 



WEISLINGEN. 

A lady, said you? Do you not know her? 

FRANZ. 

She is closely veiled, and seems oppressed with 
sorrow. 

WEISLINGEN. 

Admit her then. Be near at hand — my illness 
may return upon me. (Exit Franz,) 'Tis doubt- 
less a petition for the life of some one of the rebels 
— -I should do well to lean to mercy — for in this very 
hour may I have fearful need of it! Dim, ghastly 
forms are gathered round, and point their spectral 
fingers to the grave which now is surely yawning at 
my feet. Aye — I do fear the worst! I was the first 
to threaten. She spoke not — gave no sign that she 
had heard me — save one brief smile which flashed 
upon her brow, and then all was calm again. I have 
her answer in this mortal coldness, stealing so death- 
like through my curdled veins, and mounting to the 
feeble pulses of my heart! I know not how it is — 
all — all are changed about me. Even Franz, my 
trusted Franz, stands still and gazes at me, with 
earnest, mournful silence, as if he held some fatal 
secret in his bosom. The mystery must be resolved 
— w^hile there is time. 



172 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act V. 

(Enter Franz with Marie veiled.) 

MARIE, {unveiling,) 

Weislingen, I am here to ask my brother's life — 
to beg it at your hands! He is innocent, though 
taken with the guilty. Nay — none so well as you 
can know his innocence! 

FRANZ, (aside,) 

The lady Marie! Fool, idiot, that I knew her not! 
He turns his eyes upon me — my cup is full! 

WEISLINGEN. 

Speak no more, Marie — let me not hear that voice 
again ! 

MARIE. 

And shall my brother die? Weislingen, 'tis strange 
indeed, that 1 have need to tell you he is innocent — 
that I must humbly supplicate to turn you from the 
foul murder of a friend, who would have given his 
life to save you ! Are you the Adelbert whom once 
I loved.^ 

WEISLINGEN. 

Marie — look, the hand of death is on me — my 
strength is gone — I am dying here, forsaken and 
betrayed! Sparc me the past — bring it not back 



Scene IV.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. I73 

before me now ! Could I but speak, your bitter scorn 
and hate would melt to pity and to tears! Ohl Ma- 
rie — Marie ! 

MARIE. 

My brother, the noble Gotz von Berlichingen lies 
sorely wounded, chained in a dungeon — doomed to 
a traitor's death I You have the power to save him — 
a single word can give him life and freedom — yet 
you withhold that word from me ! Weislingen, who 
should despair? 

WEISLINGEN. 

Franz ! the papers from the Cabinet — the sealed 
papers, Franz! 

MARIE (aside.) 

His illness masters him — He sinks — he faints! I 
grow bewildered — 

(Franz brings the papers. He falls at Weislingen's 
feet, and clasps his knees. Weislingen revives.) 

WEISLINGEN. 

Here is the Imperial warrant for your brother's 
death — and thus I tear it! (lurites) And here you 
have my mandate for his liberty, upon his knightly 
word to hold himself in quiet at his castle. Take it 



174 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act V. 

and away! Weep not so, dear Franz — your sorrow 
wounds me nearly. Weep not, faithful boy — hope 
is ever with the living. 

FRANZ. 

With you there can be none — You must die ! 

WEISLINGEN. 

I must die I 

FRANZ (starting up.) 

Poison ! poison ! The Lady Adelheid — I — I was 
the tool ! Guilt — treason ! ( rushes out,) 

WEISLINGEN. 

Ha! I know it now! Poisoned by my wife! Then 
farewell to all! (attempts to rise,) Comes death so 
soon? 

MARIE ( supjwrting him.) 

Turn, oh turn your heart to him who will have 
mercy even at the latest hour! He answers not — no 
help is near! Spare him. Almighty Power! Let him 
have hope in thee, before he passes in this dreadful 
death! 

WEISLINGEN. 

Marie! still near me? AhisI why do you thus 



Scene IV.] GOETZ VON BERLICfflNGEN. 175 

increase my torment? Leave me — I pray you, by 
the love which once you bore me ! — ^Just God I how 
fearful is thy vengeance ! My wife— 

MARIE. 

Think not upon her ! Lift up your soul to Heaven I 
wEisLiNGEN ( Suddenly rising.) 

Ha! your brother! Here Marie — quick, take the 
papers — fly to save him ! They wrung the Order from 
me, and now perchance are at their fatal work! 
Away, or he is lost! Let not his blood fall too upon 
my soul — 'tis laden deep enough. Linger no more 
for me. I hear their footsteps — they come to my 
assistance. Away — away ! 

MARIE. 

Holy Virgin! forsake me not ! Adelbert — farewell 
— ^forever ! . \\Exit, 

WEISLINGEN [sinking back.) 
And now to die alone ! 



GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act V. 



SCENE v.— THE SECRET TRIBUNAL. 

A narrow vault ivith high arches, dimly lighted. 
The Dagger and the Cord are laid upon an Altar 
covered with hlack. The Judges stand around 
robed in black, and wearing masks. 

FIRST JUDGE. 

Ye Judges who are sworn upon the Dagger and 
the Cord to judge in secret, and to avenge in secret, 
like God himself, are your hearts pure before Him, 
whose Ministers ye are? Raise then your hands to 
Heaven, and cry woe — woe, — woe unto the guilty! 

ALL ( raising their hands.) 
Woe — woe, — woe unto the guilty! 

FIRST JUDGE. 

Let him whose soul doth meditate no crime, whose 
hands are free from innocent blood, come forth, and 
by the Dagger and the Cord accuse the guilty! 

SECOND JUDGE (advancing to the Altar and laying 
his hand upon the Dagger and the Cord.) 

My soul doth meditate no crime — my hands are 



Scene V.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. J 77 

free from innocent blood. At thy call I have come 
forth^ and by the Dagger and the Cord I here accuse 
the guilty! 

FIRST JUDGE. 

Whom dost thou accuse? 

SECOND JUDGE. 

Adelheid von Weislingen. A foul adultress, she 
hath doubly stained her marriage bed! Her Page 
she hath seduced to mingle poison in her husband's 
cup. He hath been wasted by a dreadful death, and 
now she smiles secure in wanton dalliance with her 
paramour! The Page hath slain himself. 

FIRST JUDGE. 

Who is the paramour.^ 

SECOND JUDGE. 

The Archduke Carl. 

FIRST JUDGE. 

Doth he know her guilt. ^ 

( One of the Judges hastily advances, ) 

SECOND JUDGE. 

He knows it not. 

( The Judge who had advanced retires to his place.) 

p 



278 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act V. 

FIRST JUDGE. 

Wilt thou swear by the God of truth, that thou 
dost not accuse her falsely? 

SECOND JUDGE. 

I swear! 

FIRST JUDGE. 

If thou art proven perjured in thy oath, wilt thou 
yield up thy life unto the vengeance which awaiteth 
murder and adultery.^ 

SECOND JUDGE. 

I will! 

( SecondJudge retires. The others come forward to 
the Altar and confer with each other. They then 
retire to their places. ) 

FIRST JUDGE. 

Judges of the Secret Tribunal ! What is your sen- 
tence upon Adelheid von Weislingen? 

ONE OF THE JUDGES. 

She shall die the bitter death ! By the Dagger and 
the Cord let her make expiation for her double guilt! 

FIRST JUDGE. 

stretch forth your hands then. Cry woe unto her, 
and give her over to the Avenger ! 



Scene VL] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 179 

ALL (raising their hands.) 
Woe — woe — woe unto her! 

FIRST JUDGE (addressing the second.) 
Take thou the Dagger and the Cord, and swift 
pursue her I Let her no more offend the face of 
Heaven. Wherever thou shalt come upon her, down 
with her in the dust! — Ye Judges who are sworn 
upon the Dagger and the Cord to judge in secret, 
and to avenge in secret, like God himself, keep your 
hearts pure before Him whose ministers ye are. 

[^Exeunt. 



SCENE VI.— ADELHEID'S CASTLE. 
Night. — Melheid^s Bedchamber. 
ADELHEiD (awakiug.) 
Franz! Franz! Thank God 'twas but a dream! 
His fingers grasped my throat, and as I struggled 
me thought his features changed to Berlichingen's,— 
who fiercly smote me with his Iron Hand, till I sank 
down — down — I know not whither.^ Would it were 
morning! My blood is chilled with strange forebo- 
dings. — Hark! a storm is raging through the night. 
It howls in fitful gusts about the castle walls, and 



] 80 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act V. 

seems to wail for him, who now is surely numbered 
with the dead ! No news from Franz — jet have I no 
fear that he has failed me. 

sound in the adjoining chamber.) 

What noise was that? 'Twas in the Court-yard 
— perhaps he has returned. (M the casement,) 
My fancy has misled me — I heard the wind — 
naught else. One cloudy veil is over all. No 
star is shining in the Heaven — nothing around but 
darkness, and the storm! My lamp is failing. This 
solitary gloom grows' fearful — I will no longer watch 
alone. (Draws the hell violently,) Shall they all 
rest in peaceful slumber, whilst I stand trembling 
here? (Draws the hell again violently,) Sleep hath 
bound up their ears — they cannot hear me. 
(A figure masked and rohed in hlack, hearing the 

Dagger and the Cord, enters from the adjoining 

chamher.) 

Hal a shadow on the wall I It moves — again! I 
am deceived — the dying lamp gives forth a wavering 
light, and that is all. Adelheid thou are not wont 
to yield to weakness and to fear. Be calm — no 
human power is near, and none can harm thee. 
( She covers her eyes with her hands. Ji moment 

after she removes them and gazes steadfastly at 

the opposite side of the wall,) 



Scene VI.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 181 

Again 'tis there — a moving shadow! Now glides 
it forward — now swiftly backward. Fly hence false 
image of a heated brain! Begone! Thus will I fol- 
low — thus will I drive thee from me! 
( As she imrsues the shadow, her eyes rest upon the 
masked figure. She shrieks aloud — then grasps 
the hell, and draws it ivith all her force. The figure 
disappears. Enter men and women servants, and 
men-at-arms with torches.) 

Lights! lights! bring torches here! Come near me 
all ! More torches yet, till the dim night around be 
changed to friendly day ! Ring the alarm bell — arm 
— arm you all! (Alarm bell rings.) Here — search 
that chamber. There is no other outlet. Seize him 
— chain liim ! Why do you stand bewildered? A vile 
assassin is concealed within ! 

[Part of the servants hasten into the adjoining 
chamber.) 

Move not, you men-at-arms. Draw all your swords 
—clash them around me I So — now am I calm — now 
it is over — Nearer — stand nearer yet. Let none stir 
hence till the bright sun shine down upon us. It 
was no dream — oh God ! it was no dream ! 

[_She faints and falls into the arms of her women. 

P 2 



1Q2 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [Act V. 



SCENE VII.— HEILBRONN. 

Gardens of the Castle, 
Berlichingen, seated. Elisabeth, supporting Mm. 

ELISABETH. 

I pray you break this dreadful silence. You are 
no more as I have known you. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Seek you old Berlichingen with the Iron Hand? 
He is indeed no more! His sword is broken — his 
lands are forfeit — his honour stained — and for his 
life — what is it worth to him? 

ELISABETH. 

It is the gift of God! 

BERLICHINGEN. 

He whom God hath stricken down, will never rise 
again! I am grown weary of man's treason and 
ingratitude. One by one, the things I cherished 
most are taken from me. I feel my hour has come. 



Scene VII.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 193 

I hoped to die upon the open field — His will be 
done. 

ELISABETH. 

Talk not of death. 'Tis yet far off. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

'Tis nearer than you think. Dear wife, lead me 
to yonder grassy mound, whence I may see the 
golden sun go down 

ELISABETH. 

Your step was firm — now you are surely better. 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Almighty God ! how beautiful is all beneath thy 
heaven — how free ! The earth — the water — the trees 
— the flowers — lift up their voice in one bright 
hymn of praise to thee! Love reigneth over all. 
Elisabeth, soon are we to be parted from each other 
—in this fair world am I to dwell no morel 

ELISABETH. 

Our little Carl will you not bless him? 

BERLICHINGEN. 

He needeth not my blessing. Bid him forget his 



Ig4 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. [ActV. 

father's name. Sickingen will care for him, and for 
you all. Noble friend! I heeded not his counsel, 
and now 

Enter Marie and Faud. 

MARIE. 

My brother! oh, my brother! 

BERLICHINGEN. 

God be thanked! I see thy face once more. Kiss 
me, dear child. Weep not — my soul is calm — I go 
to peace. 

MARIE. 

You are free, my brother — free, and restored to 
all! Here is the Order. Weislingen 

BERLICHINGEN. 

Let me not hear that traitor's name! My eyes 
grow dim. Old Camerad — thy hand. Say thou 
wilt not forsake my wife. Selbiz and George are 
dead — 'tis time to die — we have outlived the faithful 
and the true. Marie, may God restore thy husband 
to thee, and bless thee for thy love to me. Nearer, 
dear wife — T cannot see thee. This is not death — 



Scene VII.] GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 135 

the air I breathe seems pure from heaven- Free- 
dom — freedom ! \^Dies. 

ELISABETH. 

Only above — only above with thee? The earth is 
now a prison ! 



THE END. 



